Too Soon
by lifesrace
Summary: The decision to go enter the room had been easy. The entrance had been straightforward. However nothing could have prepared them for what was to come. Jim certainly wasn't the only one to go through hell and back.
1. Too Soon

_Warning! Loads, and loads, and loads, of spoilers._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

"Captain, if you go in there, you'll die"

Scotty's voice was desperate, but there was nothing the man could do to stop him.

He knew what he had to do.

Jim knew what he needed to do the instant the words came from Scotty's mouth.

Khan had said, "No ship should go down without its captain", but nobody ever said a captain couldn't go down without his ship.

There would be repercussions he knew.

Mourning.

Ceremonies.

But most of all, there would be relief.

Relief because they didn't die.

Relief because it wasn't them.

What was the death of one compared to the death of hundreds?

It wasn't nothing, but it was pretty darn close.

His fist flew and Scotty was out like a light. He would have a headache later, but it hardly mattered at this point.

Jim frantically moved to open the door.

The chamber was so terrifyingly easy to access.

It should have had a thousand screws and locks and keys. Then maybe Jim would have understood what the next few minutes would feel like.

It felt like fire in his lungs. He was breathing poison.

Poison. It would cause the kind of death people read about in newspapers and wrote off as historic improbability. Spock might have a statistic, but Jim's breathing was going fast and his mind wasn't thinking in numbers at the moment.

_Focus._

He had to move, fast, or this would all mean nothing.

The first symptom he noticed was that his lungs were closing up. His body was trying to shut down to save himself.

The radioactivity in there really was as Scotty had claimed. It made the very stuff you breath into acid. It burned.

You couldn't breathe this stuff.

What his body didn't seem to understand was that he had a ship to save too, and if his damn lungs would just open up again, that would be really nice.

But physics never really cared about men, and all that mattered was that Jim kept moving.

So he did.

First there was a tunnel. Then he saw the core.

The two pieces were completely dislodged, and Jim couldn't help but wonder why the ship was designed in such a way where that was even possible. He would have to discuss that with...

It hit him then with all the grace of a bulldozer.

_There wouldn't be a tomorrow_.

His heart stopped and the blood drained from his body.

_This is it. My god_.

Then came the surge of adrenaline, the realization that these last few minutes would not only determine the safety of his crew, but his _legacy_.

He climbed up the contraption.

His legs felt like logs of lead, and he could see his arms trembling uncontrollably.

_Its like a tree. Just a damn tree._

But it wasn't a tree. It was a freaking nuclear reactor, and he was in a radioactive chamber, saving the world.

He was past the point of feeling the pain, his muscles were simply just not working.

Its like trying to run faster than you can. Building a warp drive when you can't solve basic algebra.

And yet, he climbed.

One foot in front of the other, the only goal in mind kicking that dysfunctional core in place.

Then he saw the size of the core, the difference in the alignment. It would be so easy to just give up then and there.

But James Tiberius Kirk wasn't ready to die a failure.

_Your father was captain of a Starship for 12 minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's and yours. I dare you to do better._

He kicked the core. Failure.

_There's greatness in you, but there's not an ounce of humility. You think that you can't make mistakes, but there's going to come a moment when you realize you're wrong about that, and you're going to get yourself and everyone under your command killed._

Jim kicked it harder. Nothing.

_I believe in you Jim._

He couldn't let Pike down. Not now.

Time was running out.

How old was he?

Too young everybody would say.

He kicked it one last time. It had to work.

_For Pike. _

* * *

A flash of blue, and tremendous noise overwhelmed him.

Jim couldn't feel anything, not even the blast that came from the cores realigning.

He blacked out.

When Jim woke up moments later, he was by a door and Spock was on the other side, and he realized he didn't want to fucking die.

He wanted the crew to be able to open that door.

His head screamed,_ "Open it! Open it! I don't want to die, not now. I saved this ship, don't I get any relief?"_

He wanted a five year mission.

He wanted to see what he could _do_ with his life.

He felt like throwing a tantrum. Like a kid.

If he had the energy, he would have hit something hard.

Then the anger fled.

And he was scared.

So scared the words actually came out of his mouth.

To Spock.

And the noises he was making wasn't exactly pretty either.

But he just didn't really care, because he was dying, and right now he just needed comfort.

He needed it because he didn't know what would happen next. He wasn't religious. Would he go to hell, or simply disappear?

He doubted he would go to heaven, unless saving the world counted for brownie points.

Spock would have thought he was an idiot. Good thing the Vulcan couldn't read minds just by looking.

_Was Spock scared?_

He looked like it.

Jim must have had tearing pouring down his face, because Spock looked oh so concerned.

The Vulcan

_Concerned?_

He never was, not when Jim wanted him to be.

_Illusion?_

Probably.

He didn't imagine he could possible be thinking too straight.

Actually at this point he couldn't even feel his body, or his head. Death would be relatively painless at least.

_And very, very soon._

But Jim Kirk had business to finish first.

"How do you choose not to feel?"

He wanted to know. So badly. He didn't want to feel his death, he wanted his death to be a statistic, the logical option.

No such relief found him.

"I do not know."

A tear gathered in the Vulcan's eye.

"Right now I am failing."

A sob let loose from Jim's failing body.

"I want to let you know why I couldn't let you die."

_I've been trying to tell you for so long, don't you dare cut me off, this is my last chance you damn Vulcan._

"Why I went back for you"

The tear that had been gathering in Spock's eye fell. He looked so said, so confused, so lost. Jim felt guilty then, that he would cause the man such pain. He never wanted any of them to have to deal with this. Not Bones, not Uhura, and especially not Spock.

"Because you are my friend."

Oh God. Oh God. He knew all along. And now its too late to ever...

Spock's hand reached up for the glass.

Jim's thoughts went blank. The world turned fuzzy and all noise stopped. Jim raised his hand, and though some unnatural force, his met Spock's.

Through the blurriness, he could just make out the Vulcan sign of farewell.

His own body failed to follow suite.

His hand fell to the ground.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a faint voice full of pain yelling, and he thought of something he had once said.

_"I don't believe in no win scenarios"_

Maybe his friends would take his advice.

The world went black, and James Tiberius Kirk knew no more.

* * *

_Authors note: Perfection. The movie. Was. Perfection. _

_Any recommendations would be _much _appreciated._

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Death Defies Logic

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

_Thanks so much for reviews and favorites! I have made up my mind to make this a multi-chapter. Its really dorky that i'm posting two chapters today, but eh, I have time, and i probably won't have much for of that for a while._

_I apologize ahead of time for any script/plot errors I made. I saw it once and was really overwhelmed, so feel free to let me know if you notice anything i should fix!_

* * *

Spock stared at the screen in front of him. Khan was a highly illogical human being.

Technically speaking, he was not even human.

Not completely.

Or perhaps he was.

The calculations did not add up.

The scenario he was in was also highly illogical, seeing as mere moments ago, Khan appeared to be working with the Captain. Now he was on a destroyed Federation ship, attempting to wreak destruction upon both the Enterprise and planet Earth.

The ship that Khan had commandeered should have been working with them. This is because that ship was, in fact, lead by the head of the Federation, who had not revealed any ulterior motives until their last conversation approximately 2.7 hours ago. It was far too soon to have fully processed the man's words from the last attack, and now the added factors from Khan have made the current situation what Kirk would call, "one hell of a bitch". Not that Spock had ever considered using the term.

Sensors from various screens around the room told him that Scotty, Carol Marcus, and the Captain had just arrived back on the ship.

He authorized the opening of the containment chamber and the three stumbled out, the female of the group presumably seeking immediate medical attention. Her leg appeared to be severely distressing her.

Scotty, who should not logically be on the ship because of his resignation, and the Captain were gone before Spock could properly debrief them on the condition of the Enterprise.

However, his senses told him that they would most likely be handling the situation as soon as possible.

His eye caught the charts on the computer screens to the side of him.

Chaos, a very human emotion, was rampant here, and screaming was in all places. The humans aboard this vessel feared for their lives. He could not let such a large amount of people die, and yet, there was very little he could possibly do to remedy the situation. The statistics told him that the U.S.S Enterprise was falling toward the earth's atmosphere at a very sudden speed. When this collision happened, the Enterprise would be incinerated.

"Evacuate the ship immediately."

Sulu looked ashamed.

"Sir, we will not leave the ship."

Spock felt something resembling the human emotion panic.

"Leave the ship, that is an order."

Emotion. He sensed from Sulu's reaction that you could hear it in his own Vulcan voice.

"No Sir, we cannot abandon this ship".

There was a ninety-eight percent chance Sulu would not budge on the matter. Logic told him that his only option was to best prepare the crew for the option that they had chosen for their lives. He would start by putting on the ships seatbelts in order to better brace for collision.

In the next 5.6 minutes, the ship would lose its gravitational center 5 times. Much of the ship underwent severe damage and could not be repaired in the current situation. The casualties were unknown, although the command crew had all been spared.

Red was all that could be seen on the command screen. The ship was losing all control and power. There was nothing that could be done either on the Bridge or in Engineering. They would all die in the span of approximately 3 minutes.

Spock did not want to die. Over the last few weeks he had had many close experiences with death, and none of them were pleasant.

He had seen Pikes death, watched the man's pain.

Spock had watched Jim deal with the consequences of the man's death, and they too were difficult to watch.

He himself had nearly died in the volcano. Had this happened, conversations with Nyota had indicated that she would have felt severe distress and damage to her soul. Death now would have a similar impact, except Uhura too would lose her life. He wished for death to no one aboard the ship.

Ten, nine.

Determination. It was a familiar feeling.

Eight, seven.

Doubt. He had had experiences with this feeling, given it was so similar to reason.

Six, Five.

Loss of control. Only in his birth had he had so little control.

Four, Three

Fear. Fear was new to him. He had only just begun to understand it upon experiencing the destruction of his home planet

Two, one.

Relief.

All very human emotions.

The ship had stabilized. Three commands later and the ship could safely enter the Earth's atmosphere and crash land in San Francisco.

Then Scotty appeared. He looked to be on the verge of tears.

"You better get down here quick"

Spock then experienced fear like he had never known before. Overwhelming emotion. The floodgates of humanity had opened to him, and adrenaline soared like a kite.

He was in the Engineering deck considerably before the engineer.

Jim.

The sight of him was very similar to the feeling of loss he had experienced after the destruction of Vulcan.

"Open the doors"

Spock said this with the same determination he had had upon telling the crew to evacuate the ship. This appeared to frighten not only Sulu, but Scotty as well.

Scotty appeared to be lost for words.

"We can't sir, if we do that the whole ship'll be irradiated. Everyone ll' die."

The engineer looked extremely distressed by this statement. Spock quickly rushed to Jim's side. The man was breathing heavily.

It appeared that he could not draw breath, and in that moment, Spock could not help but feel the same helplessness that he experienced upon the death of Captain Pike.

Salty water rose from the bottom of his eyes, and he considered with wonder the idea that he was producing tears.

Jim smiled in a pained way, then looked at Spock with wonder.

His gaze was searching in a way that you would expect of one who was completely and irrevocably lost.

"How do you choose not to feel?"

Spock considered a quote from Mark Twain. This pre-twentieth century writer had once said, "Any emotion, if it is sincere, is involuntary."

The human had been right, he reflected.

In that moment, he could simply could not understand the Vulcan concept of logic and lack of emotion.

"I do not know"

Jim began to cry. His life-force was leaving him. Spock did not wish for this. The tears that had collected in his eye fell.

"Right now i am failing miserably"

Jim looked to be breaking at this. Then determination flashed across his face through the tears.

"I want to let you know why I couldn't let you die"

Spock knew though. He had known all along. He simply feared the answer, for it was illogical and reminded him of the feelings that he did not allow himself to contain.

"Because you are my friend."

Jim smile was accompanied by a tear and cough. The man was dying.

His captain was dying.

His friend was dying.

And yet, Spock had never felt more alive. He no longer knew the boundaries of logic and the struggle with emotion that had been his life. He was lost in his own ounce of humanity.

He then did the only thing he knew how to do by instinct.

He rose his hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting.

Jim rose his hand to meet it, and Spock understood that this was the last time he would ever be so close to his friend.

The Captain's hand fell and he breathed his last.

* * *

Anger. All consuming anger. Yet another human emotion.

John Harrison had taken a life that was not his to take, destroyed a man who would only ever do good in the world, and taken the greatest relationship the Vulcan had ever known away from him. Was this jealousy?

This death rang stronger in his mind then even the loss of Vulcan.

Vengeance. Spock now understood how emotion and logic could intertwine.

Samuel Johnson once said, "Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice"

And justice was in-fact acceptable to a Vulcan.

He had broke.

* * *

_KHHHHAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN_.

The world shuddered.

* * *

_Author's Note: Yeah. Spock killed it in this movie. Tears._

_If anybody has any opinions on who I should write on next, that would be lovely ;)_


	3. Playing God

_First off, thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites! I cannot believe how well received this story is :) I really appreciate all the feedback! So based off your guys reaction, this next chapter is from McCoy's perspective. _

_Im playing with a _really_ funky idea right now, and all yall might just hate it, but i'm going to play with it until told otherwise. The story doesn't necessarily have to continue with this plot. Guess you'll have to read to find out what it is! _

_Note: All first person is in Italics_

_Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing, lets be honest._

_With much terror, i post this chapter. Enjoy :)_

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Some things about a hospital room would never change.

The sadness.

The worry.

The questions.

The lack of _energy_.

Even in this era, this hadn't changed.

The machines were still loud indicators of a body that wasn't working, the charts a detailed documentation of everything that was failing in your life.

Leonard liked that. No secrets. No lies. Just fact.

Facts were problems that could be worked with- solved if you were lucky.

He frequently damned this concept as what dragged him into the profession in the first place.

Sure, there were some things you couldn't fix.

_Divorce cases._

Sometimes people came in that were too far gone to do anything about. You did everything you could. Consoled the family, sent away the body, wrote a check. By some cruel chance of fate, these patients were more than likely young people with stable families and bright futures ahead of them. These were the situations that left him a emotional wreck.

Leonard McCoy didn't want to Jim Kirk to be one of those cases.

Jim was in an extended state of unconsciousness on a hospital bed. He had been in a medical induced coma for six days. Surrounding him was a state-of-the-art containment tube. No contaminates could come in, and most importantly, none could escape. After all, the whole purpose of Jim's mission had been to save lives, not to kill the whole damn building with radiation.

He _looked_ dead. If it wasn't for the readings on the screens, McCoy would have had to physically check his pulse to know if he was alive. Thanks to a combination of life aboard a spaceship and his recent battle with death, Kirk's skin was eerily white. It was a far cry from his typical glowing self.

The worst thing was his silence. He didn't know if he could mentally handle one more day of a completely quiet Kirk. It was some terrifying nightmare. It would be like this until McCoy said otherwise. Heavy medication was keeping him under in the meantime.

_If only Jim could see the size of the hypos he was being stabbed with now. _

When the radiation stabilized to a point of safety, Jim would been allowed to wake up on his own. Whether or not this would happen was still a question on everyone's mind. The process itself was unprecedented and, according the the Vulcan's numbers, very likely to fail.

This worried McCoy incessantly. Quite honestly, he couldn't remember his last full night of sleep. Spock told him it was approximately eight days ago. He didn't need to know that. There were much more pressing matters to concern his busy self with.

The thing is, you can't just go freezing dead bodies in torpedo shells- it isn't acceptable. You especially can't freeze dead bodies and then leave them unattended.

This was his case, and his case only. No decorated doctor was going to take it.

If Jim died, it would only be because there was absolutely nothing else he could do to save him.

If he lived, it would be his success, his great accomplishment in life.

_If_ it worked, it would preserve his the captain in the state he had been in just before his death.

This "mission" was the hardest he had ever embarked on in his life. However, the decision to join had been the easiest of his career. He had the chance to save the person who mattered most to him.

This was motivation enough for McCoy.

* * *

_Goddammit Jim._

McCoy stared at the myriad of screens in front of him. He knew he shouldn't be surprised- Jim was the exception to every rule in the playbook.

Until two weeks ago, Leonard had assumed that a body that had been dead such an extensive length of time was really truly honestly dead. Not that you could blame him. He didn't need his seven years of medical school to know that a dead body is a dead body.

Until two weeks ago, he had assumed that somebody completely and totally intoxicated with high level radiation was a very, _very_ dead man.

The Captain had been so irradiated it was a miracle there had been any functioning organs left for him to work with. Radiation can do all sorts of terrifying things. It destroys hair cells, organ function, muscular usage, and most importantly brain function. In the 20th century, before they fully knew the extent of nuclear power, the United States had dropped atomic bombs on Japan. Those who didn't die immediately suffered terrible side effects.

Apparently this data did not apply to him.

_Apparently_ hundreds of years of scientific findings did not apply to Jim Kirk.

Over the past two weeks, he had learned that with a bit of blood from a complete maniac and an ancient cryotube, you could an revive a Starfleet captain.

Who knew?

Jim Kirk knew, even if he didn't know exactly how at the time. Apparently, he didn't believe in no-win scenarios. Not even in death.

However, there was something bothering McCoy- Jim's vitals were actually reading above normal. It was hard to tell considering his previously incomplete medical records, but Jim's muscle mass and strength actually appeared to be significantly greater than before his near-death experience. His brain activity was hyperactive- possibly even dangerously so.

And maybe it was to be expected. For Christ's sake- they had injected him with super-human blood. What if Jim actually had a bit of Khan in him? It was more than possible that the blood they had used to revive him had actually taken over his body, making Kirk another potential pawn in Khan's army.

_Just one more reason why joining Starfleet was a bad idea._

The thing is, he couldn't test his theory- not yet. The radiation in Jim's blood was still so high that all tests came out royally screwed, even _with_ the newest sensors. All other abnormalities in the blood are hidden under the guise of radiation.

But if the blood really did what he thought it might, the outcomes were endless.

In the little sleep he got, McCoy dreamed about this. He dreamed about Jim waking. He would break the restraints of the hospital bed and punch his way through the window.

_"What am I?" Jim would scream this from the ledge, "What have you made me?"_

_His desperate blue eyes looked wild._

_I would open my mouth. Try to make myself speak the truth about his condition. But nothing would come out. It felt like a hand was over my mouth, physically stopping the words I had formed._

_Then, Jim would yell a manic cry._

_"You can do nothing for me! NOTHING! I am one of them now. This," he gestured to himself with a choke, "this is all your fault."_

_Spock would rush in. He would reach through the broken glass, but the glass repaired itself. He punched the glass, but just like Khan, you couldn't physically destroy it. It took so much more than a simple punch._

_Spock screamed._

_Jim jumped._

_Nobody with a normal physiology could possibly survive that sort of fall._

_The new Jim always did though._

_He hit the ground running._

Like Khan had done just days ago.

_Starfleet officials would come to take him away. But it wasn't the shiny red cadets he was so grudgingly familiar with. These men were cold, and very distinctly not Starfleet. They were Khan's army. Like the Nazi's of the 1940's, these men were perfectly uniform. They were clearly the product of Eugenics- one of the man's most distinctive ideals._

_The men would threaten him: threaten him with the life of his daughter. Demand that they tell him where Jim went._

But McCoy could never say anything. He didn't know.

_This wasn't his game. He screamed this in his head again and again. Leave me alone._

_"What did you do to him? How dare you make him one of us?"_

_A hard punch, the shock of a phaser._

_"We were perfect. You are a threat to us. You have destroyed what we once had by letting a loose cannon into our perfectly created race"._

_He saw red._

_"You will die for what you have done."_

McCoy couldn't help but wonder if it was really a dream after all.

_Wake up kid._

_We need you._

* * *

**Authors Note**: So i really feel like this is something that actually legitimately happened at the end of STID. Does anybody have any opinions on why this hypothesis might be right or wrong? I was thinking about it and it sort of blew my mind.


	4. Up the River Styx

**Authors Note**: Thank ya'll so much for the reviews and favorites :) Your the best! It really helps to have the motivation to keep writing. The chapters are coming fast right now because i'm sick, track just finished, and I don't want to study. This probs won't keep up.

This chapter is all from Jim's perspective while unconscious. Yes, i'm trying my hand at dreams. Some parts might be really weird, some might be really awful. It might not blend in with the story. Feeling philosophical, so this might be over the top! Guess we will have to find out... Enjoy!

Disclaimer:I own nothing.

P.S: All italics are dreams.

* * *

Jim was entering his first day of his new life and therefore the first of his unconsciousness. The living were dead and the dead were the living. It wasn't a bad life.

_Christopher Pike was staring at me. This could be advantage of my maybe death. Perhaps I wouldn't lose everybody after all. Fate it seems has some ounce of kindness._

_"I've been looking for you"_

_I snorted in disbelief._

_"Thats pretentious of you. You must have been lying through your teeth during that speech if you were assuming I would die that early in my career. I hope when you gave me all that sentimental bull-crap you didn't mean, 'I believe in you Jim, I believe that you can handle the Enterprise extremely well in the ten minutes you're going to have it'."_

_Pike rolled his eyes. "No. No, thats not true and you know it."_

_I turn away from him._

_"Jim, don't you think for one minute the only reason you were captain of the Enterprise was because of default command settings. If I didn't believe you were right for the chair, I would never have put you there. If it wasn't for you, the Enterprise would be a pile of space junk. The earth wouldn't even exist anymore. In the last week you have shown more than ever that you earned that chair."_

_Tears blossomed in my eyes. Apparently death made wusses of the lot of us._

_"You know, most people would be giving me the opposite speech. Apparently i'm too cocky for my own good."_

_Chris grimaced. It looked odd in the glowing white setting. Then the thought crossed my mind that maybe everything that shined here was gold. How illogical._

_"Only with women"_

_A manic grin spread across my face._

_"Yeah... true. You know, in old books, a ship was always considered a woman."_

_A long pause followed. The silence seemed so deep here. So peaceful._

_"Well then I trust you know how to please her. You are James Tiberius Kirk after all."_

_With that I was overcome with a bitter taste. I wasn't going back. The world was rid of me. He knew it. So why would he play with me like that?_

_Then like a spark, my mind caught fire._

_"I'm not dead, am I"_

_Pike's features seemed to blur like the hues of a watercolor painting._

_"What do you think?"_

_I thought long and hard. I sure didn't imagine that everything here would be this white._

_"I think that I don't believe in no-win scenarios. So maybe i'm not dead. I know I don't want to be dead."_

_Then Pike's image spoke to me. He wasn't real, not in this place._

_"No Jim, you're not dead."_

_Happiness filled me. The world faded away and I could barely make out Pike's outline in the dimness._

_"Are you real?"_

_Please be real. Please._

_"I am what you need me to be."_

_His voice was far away now. It was ok though. It was ok because I knew what I needed to do._

_"Jim, good luck out there. The Federation needs you. Your friends need you. The world needs you."_

_By now I was reaching for his shadow, but the pull of life was dragging me away._

_"Thanks. Thank you for everything."_

* * *

Now that the world of the dead was no longer known to him and the world of the living too far to reach, Kirk's mind reached a state of dreams. Dreams that were had too much reality to be anything other than distorted memories.

_I needed the upper hand here. I needed to make sure that he knew that I was in charge. I needed him to know this, because I wasn't sure that i believed it. I needed to be in charge verbally because i didn't have the ability to physically beat Khan. Still, I wanted to punch him so damn much. If only the glass between us was just a little thinner._

_"Let me explain what's happening here: you are a criminal! I watched you murder innocent men and women! I was authorized to END you! And the only reason why you are still alive is because I am allowing it. So SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"_

_Khan titled his head to the side. His eyes narrowed in on mine. His mesmerizing drawl filled the room._

_My disguise was shattered._

_"Captain, are you going to punch me again, over and over, until your arm weakens... clearly you want to. So tell me, why did you allow me to live?"_

_Animal instincts overtook me. I punched the glass where his face would be again and again. I punched the glass until my knuckles were bleeding. I did just as he said. But he didn't smirk at me. He just stared. He stared until I had nothing left to see but the truth._

_The truth was I couldn't let him go without knowing why he destroyed a great man. This was my death to avenge, not the Federation's political pawn._

_"We all make mistakes."_

_Sometimes its better to lie._

_Khan knew I was lying. I knew it because I saw something resembling compassion shine through his eyes. He knew my ulterior motivations. I wanted to avenge a death._

_Khan understood this, even if i didn't fully grasp this fact at the time. I didn't know the secrets he kept yet._

_"I surrendered to you because, despite your attempt to convince me otherwise, you seem to have a conscience, Mr Kirk. If you did not, then it would be impossible for me to convince you of the truth."_

_What is the truth? Was Khan's truth any worse than the federation's?_

_Khan's eyes turned into Marcus's. Marcus's into Nero's. Nero's into my father's._

_The line between right and wrong was growing thin indeed._

_"My crew is my family, Kirk. Is there anything you would not do for your family?"_

_His eye's were no longer those of my families but those of the ones I cared about most._

_Spock. Uhura. Scotty. McCoy._

_"I repeat. Is there anything you would not do for you family Jim Kirk?_

_Nothing. There was nothing._

_"No, no need for words. I already know the answers. Now, bring me my crew, or they will all die. Your reward will be your life and their safety. You have no choices."_

_I screamed in fury._

_Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could have sworn I felt a needle entering my body._

_Perhaps the world of the living was not so far off after all._

* * *

Twelve days in the world of the living, Jim began to experience nightmares. Nightmares of his past, nightmares of his present, and nightmares of his future. McCoy and Spock only knew this because his cries for help were not only reserved to his dreams. For the crew of the enterprise, the captain's waking could not come soon enough.

_In the beginning I was a hero, a star fallen from a broken sky. Red was my color, because my birth had been marked by death. The alien across from me told me it clashed horribly with my eyes. So i ditched my suit and put on the same t-shirt and frayed pants as everybody else in this place._

_I hated it, so I tore it apart._

_The cornstalks weren't stars and the canyon wasn't a black hole._

_There wasn't any danger therefore there wasn't any life._

_My new reality became the old nightmare of corporate past._

_Uniformity._

_Conformity._

_A cookie cutter lifestyle._

_James Tiberius Kirk wasn't cut out for this sort of life._

_So I lashed out, creating a tornado of destruction across my midwest life._

_The man who found me here was wearing blue._

_He saved me from the wreck I had made, and once again. I donned red. _

_The same man made me Captain of everything my dreams were made of._

_I was saved through adventure, expectations, and responsibility._

_Then, before I could even grasp the dream, i was killed._

_Figuratively by a man named John Harrison._

_Literally by a murderer who went by the name of Khan._

_In this dream, I come back to life._

_Not the life I had had before, with the medals and media, but the plains of Iowa._

_The plains were just the same as before._

_Uniform._

_Unchanging._

_The homes were destroyed though, and all I could see was the destruction Khan had wreaked. Genocide was coded into the landscape._

_I looked across the fields and saw nothing except corn, and one solitary porch._

_On it was my mother._

_She looked like a body that had been dead for a long time._

_I tasted blood in my mouth._

_She was screaming._

_"Jim! Jim! Come to me, come to your mother!"_

_I couldn't come back._

_I couldn't._

_"Don't be afraid, its just me"_

_She was dying, it was clear in her face._

_But i couldn't come._

_The wind picked up, and I started he hear voices in it._

_It was my father._

_It was the final recording from the Kelvin._

_It was everything Khan wished for me to hear in order to break me._

_My world went dark._

* * *

Note: Next chapter, Jim wakes! (probably) Should be much less abstract if all is as planned.

Please please please review! Advice, complaints, positives, negatives, anything helps :)


	5. The Frontier Thesis

**Authors note:** Literally ever time I see McCoy in Star Trek I just think... he would have made a really good wild west doctor. You know? No... no, probably not what your thinking. But hey, he's a southern guy, and when the going gets tough, sometimes you've just got to be you. So here is this chapter!

Also, a little Allison Krauss is going a long way in adding to this chapter for me here. Watching O' Brother Where Art Thou probably has something to do with it...

Btw... I am absolutely completely thrilled by all the followers and favorites! Its absolutely fantastic and you guys are beyond wonderful!

However... a bit more reviewing wouldn't kill us would it? No... didn't think so ;) Lets test it out eh? The more reviews the faster the next chapter comes!

* * *

"As I went down in the river to pray

Studying about that good ol' way

And who shall wear the robe & crown?

Good Lord show me the way

O sinners, let's go down

Let's go down, come on down

O sinners, let's go down

Down in the river to pray"

Spock stood in the doorway of an empty hospital room. McCoy was facing away from him, sitting on a white chair. Music, presumably from the 20th century was playing from a speaker system in the room. He appeared to be drinking something alcoholic.

"Man was never meant to go to space."

Spock considered this. Logic told him that man was never meant, nor meant not to do anything. Space should be no exception to this rule.

"May I ask why you say this doctor?"

McCoy turned to him. He considered the Vulcan for a length of time.

"Because I believe that all this damn complicating of things is just a damn waste of perfectly good human nature and talent. That's why."

"Is it not in the nature of human's to explore?"

Leonard stood up and faced Spock.

"It is in the nature of humans to live. To live where our heart is, and to buy a piece of land, and to raise a family goddammit! We have enough to deal with on our own darn planet, and we don't need to try to deal with to fix the rest of the universe's problems as well. Hell, I can't even handle my own life."

"Doctor, I.."

Leonard threw the glass he was holding. The noise sounded like gunfire in the silence of the room and the liquor made a sharp contrast its whiteness. Admittedly, his behavior was rather alarming.

"Shut-up you pointy eared bastard. Did you know that once upon a time, man's priority used to be to buy a piece of land, find a wife, and raise a family? Did you know that!"

"Commander McCoy, I believe you have already..."

"Shut up you pointy eared bastard and listen! Now I am going to tell you about human's, and about Jim Kirk, and why the United States of America should have canceled the NASA program while they had the chance! I may only be a doctor, but i'm a southern boy too, and let me tell you, the world has gone to shambles..."

Spock raised his hand with a small smile of amusement on his face. It seemed as though this battle was not going to be won anytime soon.

"Doctor, perhaps we should take this enlightening conversation elsewhere, I believe we are attracting attention."

And indeed they were. A few bored nurses were standing in hallway looking simultaneously alarmed and curious.

"My god man, you're right. Lets take this somewhere a little less clean. All this light is giving me a headache."

* * *

Their new location was a shady bar on the far end of San-Francisco. Few college kids were in the premise, however, it seemed to be a popular haunt for many of the the older men of the town. Scantily clad bartenders were the entertainment for the night it seemed.

Leonard's choice of location was far from Spock's optimal choice, but as it seemed to calm Leonard down, it was agreeable to his tastes.

"... now I don't suppose you heard of the Frontier Thesis have you Spock. See this guy named Turner decided that the conti... continuit... Well-being, of the United States of goddamned America, lay in the American west. It was the ideal place. The place for men to be men, and live how people were meant to. Simply. You see, not all of us were meant to be diplomats like you. Some of us, were just meant to... to live goddammit."

McCoy paused and leaned in closer. Spock had absolutely no idea what the logical choice was to do in this situation.

"Now... I don't suppose you've heard of cowboys have you."

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

He recalled reading about them several years ago.

"Yes, I do believe..."

He was cut off yet again.

This human was absolutely impossible.

"Just listen."  
He was whispering at this point.

"Now the cowboys were real honest to God men. They lived in the plains and wore blue jeans. They carried guns and loved women. They got into fist-fights and owned horses. When they got their leg broken, they didn't come into the local doctor moanin' and complainin'. They sucked it up, because they were men. The doctor came to their humble abode, and told them something like, 'Sir, there ain't nothin' I can do here but wrap up your leg with this 'ere cloth an tell ya ta stay off the darn thing for a lil while. Hear me sir? If the pain gets real bad, some whiskey always does the trick.'"

He stopped and took a swig of his drink.

"Now, I know i'm probably rambling at this point, but I just want you to understand something. Back in those days, things were simple. I wouldn't have had to put Jim in that confounded cryo-tube because it wouldn't have existed. Back then a dead man, was a dead man, was a dead man, was a closed coffin, was a nail on the roof. If they went to heaven, well then thats great, but its not my business, I don't have to deal with it. Nowadays you can never really tell if a mans dead or alive, or maybe dead, or... I don't even know anymore."

Spock was not even going to comment.

Leonard leaned back.

"You see, this is where Jim and space come in. If the U.S had canceled the space program then George Kirk would have never entered the space program. Jim would have been a farm boy. He would have grown crops and loved beautiful women, and... and drove a truck, and maybe gone to college to be a dentist or somethin... I don't know. He would have done what his heart had lead him to do, and I would have been his friend. Just his friend. Not his doctor, not the man who has to worry over him every goddamned second. Just his friend. And his drinking partner on Saturdays. Our wives would have been friends and our children would have gotten in trouble together."

He leaned again.

"Now I have never, nor will I ever repeat this, but I dream about this Spock. I _dream_ about it. Now, what do have to say about that?"

Spock thought a lot of things about this statement. He had had well over an hour to consider Leonard's points after all.

"Commander McCoy, I believe that it is only good to dwell on what is, not on what could have been..."

Leonard attempted to interrupt.

Spock raised his hand and the man was silent. He would not allow him to interrupt again.

"Had the earth continued without involvement from other parts of the universe, records suggest that the earth would have been uninhabitable by this star-date. If George Kirk had lived as you suggested and Jim had become a farmer in this now uninhabitable land, they would have been extremely impoverished, and Jim's criminal record suggest that he would have been less than satisfied with this sort of mediocre life. Additionally, had Starfleet never come into you or Jim's lives, it is more than probable that you would have never met, yet alone lived the ideal life you suggest. Now I recommend that you focus on the fact that Jim is living instead of dwelling on what is not. Jim is not, as many human's say, 'out of the woods' yet, and I believe that the most logical decision would be to focus your remaining energy on the health of Jim Kirk."

McCoy looked away and put his head in his hands.

After a time he lowered his hands and looked at the Vulcan.

Spock couldn't help but notice the excessive signs of fatigue on the man's face and the signs of intoxication he was displaying.

"I also recommend that we return to the hospital as soon as is reasonable in order to rest and recover."

McCoy seemed to consider this for a moment before raising his hand in defeat.

"Well man, you raise one hell of a point. Lets head out."

Leonard laid the money on the table and they returned back to their respective quarters.

It had been a long night.

* * *

As Spock sat in preparation for meditation, he couldn't help but think that James Tiberius Kirk would have made an excellent cowboy.

How very illogical.

* * *

**A/N**: Reviews are an ounce of gold after a long day sifting through the cold river, just remember that.

Hope you enjoyed :)


	6. Over My Head

**Author's Note:** Wanna know whats awesome? You guys! This story has now reached over 100 followers and I couldn't be happier! To celebrate here's this chapter! Also, Nyota makes an appearance.

P.S: Anything by the Fray goes _really _nicely here. DO IT.

Enjoy :)

* * *

Leonard felt a rush of air as Spock entered the room. This was because the room he was currently in was a completely regulated chamber designed for maximum recovery speed. It was built to be completely free of contaminates and outside airflow. Because of this, when someone entered the room, the pressure lowered causing increased airflow and ears to pop obnoxiously.

This sort of room was only used for high level patients in critical condition. The patient in question was of course James Tiberius Kirk.

"Doctor, may I inquire about the state of the Captain?"

Leonard rolled his eyes flamboyantly.

"Could you use more formal language please?"

Spock gave a knowing look. Quite frankly, the McCoy was sick of this game. It would be nice to just talk to the guy normally. Not, well, not having Jim definitely played a role in the awkwardness of the situation.

Maybe this would be better if he was drunk.

"Commander, I am sorry, I did not wish to offend, only to know the current condition of the..."

_Cut the crap._

McCoy buried his head in his hands, and the two found themselves in the same place as last night.

"Listen, I have a bad hangover, I didn't sleep last night, and i've got a lot to think about... please, just humor me and call me Leonard."

He stood up and pointed to Kirk.

"See this body? This is Jim. _Just Jim_. Not Captain. Not James, not Mr. Kirk..."

Just then the steady beeping sound coming from one of the many monitors on the wall started beating and more frequent intervals.

Leonard shot up, knocking a table of equipment over in the process.

"Aww... shit. Spock, we're gonna need that, do you mind?"

Spock looked up at the Doctor, taking in the dark bruises around his eyes and the worry lines on his face. The man would need to rest at the nearest opportunity. Unfortunately, now was hardly an ideal time.

"Of course. Do you need any additional help?"

McCoy seemed to consider this for a length of time.

"No... its probably best if you leave quite honestly. Also, I need Chapel in here asap."

Spock made to leave the room. If the doctor didn't want him there, he wasn't going to fight it.

"Spock, wait..."

He looked at the Vulcan was compassion and honesty.

"Jim... hes fine. He'll wake up really soon. Thats what the holos are telling me anyway... It should be fine..."

Spock turned back around to face Leonard. He cocked his head to the side.

"I believe that under your care, Jim will be well in a very timely manner. Thank you for your work, it is much appreciated."

McCoy looked at him with what could have been tears and lowered himself onto the stool by the hospital bed.

"Thanks... You might be a pointy-eared bastard, but you're not half bad."  
He gave Spock a small smile and just like that it disappeared.

"There is..."

His hands slid down his face.

"There's one more thing. That serum worked well. Like really well. Jim, well, his scars are actually gone. All of them. It might be fine, he might be happy about it even. But knowing Jim, hes probably going to be pissed. Also, there is about a fifty-fifty shot he's not allergic to anything anymore."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Well that would be considered a good thing, would it not?"

McCoy laughed a small laugh.

"Don't get me wrong, i'm definitely not complaining about that. Makes my life a hell of a lot easier. It probably won't be permanent unfortunately. We will just have to keep an eye on the kid."

Leonard picked up a PADD and made a call to Nurse Chapel. They were going to have to keep Kirk under while they removed IV's and monitoring systems. There was no reason for him to be awake for that.

With the raise of a hand the Vulcan left the room.

* * *

Uhura was thoroughly exhausted. This was the first relaxation time she'd had in a long time.

Setting up a massage appointment was _definitely_ on the priority list.

For now this shower would have to do.

She found herself wishing that life was as easy as a shower.

_Wash._

_Rinse._

_Repeat._

There was something about a _really_ hot shower that was actually really, really wonderful.

The kind with high pressure settings and low light.

Yeah.

Yet, even here, all she could think of was how she almost lost _everything_.

Not like just her boyfriend.

She almost lost all of her friends, her career, her _life_.

The weird thing was, nobody close to her had actually died.

Well, Kirk had, but he came back.

That situation had hit her hard.

She didn't understand it actually, but she found the idea of losing Jim to be completely awful.

Ok, yeah, he was hot.

_Really_ hot.

Not that she would ever admit it to anybody else.

It was _definitely_ not cool to crush on your boyfriends best friend, even if he was the captain.

But there was something about him.

Sure, he was an insatiable flirt, but he had intelligence. He was... no, is, so passionate. Nyota liked that. She like a guy who was willing to risk everything. Passion led to commitment and dedication. Every woman should want that.

_Heaven knows I have enough of these kind of men in my life._

She turned up the heat in the shower. It was almost burning her skin now.

Its so hard.

So hard to date a Vulcan.

In some ways, they were so similar.

Their love of language, their love of knowledge.

She wanted to _learn_ from him, to be his key to the world.

But now she wasn't sure that that was enough to build a sturdy relationship on.

_Oh my god, what am I playing at._

I'll give it a couple weeks to simmer down.

_Once Jim wakes up, we'll figure out where things lie._

_And then, do something probably._

I'll have to talk to Spock.

_Like really talk._

Not this playing around emotions thing.

_Its just a really bad time._

She stepped out of she shower and let the steam disappear.

Later this week they would have a meeting with the board to review last weeks "situation". The board was hoping that Jim would be awake by this time so that they could have a scapegoat most likely.

Considering the federation was actually entirely at fault for the recent destruction in San Francisco, this meeting was not going to be easy for either party.

At least it would be in English.

A ringing was coming from her door and she quickly threw on a t-shirt and leggings and called it good. She checked the holo on the wall. It was Spock and he didn't seem like he was going to leave anytime soon. Wet hair would have to do. Maybe it would make him loosen up a bit. He was so darn uptight.

_Well, that's what I get for dating a Vulcan._

Showtime.

Nyota opened the door and let him in. They didn't play with introductions, they never had. In that way their relationship was odd. It didn't have all the decorations and stupid little conversations.

It was either all in or all out.

Passionate kisses and borderline violent contact from both sides or almost diplomatic conversation.

She almost liked it that way.

_Almost._

They seated themselves on the cute little zen-like chairs she had just bought. The new apartment was modern, clean, and very asian in style. She liked it that way. It was easy to deal with and chic.

Plus it matched her boyfriend.

Speaking of which, he actually looked more relaxed than he had in a couple days.

_Jim._

"So... how's he doing?"

A small smile from her and a lost look from Spock.

"Doctor McCoy believes he will recover very quickly. He should wake up very soon. I was lead to believe it might even be within the day."

Nyota wasn't surprised. It had been almost two weeks after all. But still... that was excellent news. It also meant that that meeting was way too close for anyone's liking.

"So, I guess that council meeting will be a lot sooner than we thought then?"

He smiled a bit.

"Yes, I do believe that that is the case. I am sure you are thrilled by this thought?"

She laughed and curled her feet toward her body.

"Was that sarcasm? Gosh, I don't want..."

They looked at each other.

All of a sudden a table length seemed _very_ far away.

Vulcan lips meet human.

Turns out Vulcans are fierce kissers.

_Right, this is why we're dating._

He broke it off.

"I am sorry, what was that?"

Nyota could have buried herself in the ground in shame.

"It is _soo_ awkward that you can read my mind."

He just raised an eyebrow.

The _bastard_.

"It is only when we make contact."

She coughed.

"Right, and thats when it matters. Like any other girl would be absolutely _mortified_ if her boyfriend could hear all of her dirty thoughts, it is _weird_ I just cannot eve..."

The phone rang. The couple could not have been more happy for the distraction.

The caller ID read McCoy.

Spock grabbed the phone from Nyota's hand.

"Yes doctor?"

_A pause._

"Yes, this is Spock, i'm here because I was visiting Lieutenant Uhura..."

He looked frantic.

She couldn't help but wonder why he was so freaked out. Was there something off that he wasn't telling her about?

Or maybe hes just really happy.

_Lets go with that._

"Its Jim. He is in the process of waking up. We can come to the hospital in approximately fifteen minutes. He appears to be fine."

She smiled.

_This is good. The nightmare's finally over._

* * *

**A/N: **Think we can get the reviews closer to the 100 mark? I think so... feel free to submit ideas, compliments or complaints! Even just "good stuff" improves my day :)

Thanks for reading!


	7. Syndicate

**Author's Note: **I have no clue why I am writing this from Winona's perspective. Some part of me feels like she is necessary for Jim's character development I think. I'm sorry, its probably _really _boring. Don't worry, if you don't like this chap, there rest of them will be really different, so don't loose hope.

Also, this chapter is a bit late.

One reason. I DISCOVERED SHERLOCK. It is _ruining _my life. I am madly. Madly. Madly in love with the show. Now literally everything I do feels boring and it is a curse.

Note: Chapter title is based on two things. The song by _The Fray _and the actual definition of the word because the characters are united by a common interest (ahem... Jim) rather than previous knowledge.

Enjoy :)

* * *

Winona Kirk had been beautiful once. You could tell by the structure of her face and the way she dressed. She acted like someone who was expected to be beautiful, but had long since dropped the pretense of trying.

When she smiled, it was the ghost of something she had lost a long time ago. This wasn't her fault. It was her husband's. He had died in a way that left the world to see Winona Kirk as the remnants of a dark story and tragic past.

Something to be pitied.

Something to be watched.

Something to be remembered.

Something to be ignored.

Certainly, people were interested in her story. Oh yes, every time the Kelvin incident came up, her phone would explode with press request, after press request, after press request.

_"Mrs. Kirk, may I have a word?"_

_No, no you may not. _

She hated the press. She hated that they felt the need to exploit her history, simply because she had fallen in love with the wrong man.

_Oh George. Why? How could you leave me, and still manage to make the only thing in my life you? Your work. Your sons. Your legacy._

Her sons.

You see, it was all black and white until two years ago.

Sam was supposed to be the good kid.

No bad habits, no trouble. He left people alone and minded his own business.

Frank wasn't good with kids, and Sam knew that. Sam knew that if he stayed, he would explode, and be in a world of trouble. In a way, that made him good. He wasn't a martyr, he wasn't suicidal.

_Not like his father._

So he left.

He got a job and was supposedly living a stable life.

Of course, that was all she had known. She hadn't known about the drugs and the alcohol and the gang activity.

Winona herself had left long before Sam. She escaped to the place where her husband had escaped to eleven years prior.

The stars.

Of course, Starfleet had wanted her. She was smart, good looking, and, most importantly, Starfleet owed her a favor.

Science officer. That's what they made her.

It wasn't a prestigious position, but it was enough to keep her occupied. Just to keep her mind off things.

Did she like Frank?

_Of course not._

He wasn't George Kirk.

That's why she married him for heaven's sake. Nobody seemed to realize that. She could never replace George Kirk, but she wasn't going to leave the kids without of a father.

_If only I had known what a poor father the man actually made. _

Jim hated him. He had never told her that, but the fights were a strong enough clue for her.

He rebelled. He broke laws. He got in trouble.

Got hurt.

Lost direction.

Lost ambition.

He could have taken the easy way out and just kept peace with the guy. She hated him for not choosing this option. He was so smart, whether the rest of the world could see it or not. His head was in the stars and his mind was meant for great things.

_Just like his father._

Despite this, he had shot his chance at having a successful life early on.

That's what she had thought.

_Until she had got that call._

It had been three years since she had talked to Jim. At the time, she was on a transfer shuttle to the Orion Belt and he was in the back of a car sounding like a man who had just gotten the living crap kicked out of him. He also sounded very, very drunk.

_"Hey mother. Guess what?"_

_She struggled for air. Three years._

_"This is Jim? This is Jim, right?"_

_"Of course, what other sonofabitch could it be? Sam wouldn't call you and you know it."_

_That hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt the same as it always had. _

_She had failed them in so many ways._

_"Jim, what is it?"_

_She pictured his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. _

_They were just like George's._

_"I'm…"_

_Muffled breathing. Maybe had had just been strangled. Or a broken rib._

_"I'm joining Starfleet."_

_She knew it. She knew it, she knew it, she knew it._

_"Is there… Is there anything I can do to stop you?"_

_Finality. There was nothing she could do to stop him, not now, not after all the years of neglect._

_"There is nothing… I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

_They both breathed. _

_She cried._

_"I need this. I need to do something… I'm so bored. I can't take being nothing anymore."_

_Now he was crying. _

_"Jim, I know you won't believe me when I say this, but I'm proud of you. As much as it hurts me for you to be put in the same position as him, I am proud of you."_

_A silence on both parts._

_"Thank you…. Look, I've got to go now."_

_She heard a door closing, and then a soft voice… she could have sworn she heard him whisper 'I love you' on the other line._

_Love you too. _

_Her transport had arrived in the landing dock._

Four years. It had been four years since then. He hadn't heard a single word from him, not one word.

It wasn't until her inbox was flooded that she even knew that he had made it through training. Winona had assumed he wouldn't. It just wasn't likely. Jim would probably get into one too many fights.

Maybe he would hate the professors.

_Maybe he would struggle through the coursework._

He never had gotten good grades.

You can imagine the surprise she felt when she found out that he had not only made it through the academy, but had also proceed to become the youngest Starfleet officer in the entirety of its history, not to mention save the planet.

The first time she was given the story, she had actually hung up on the guy.

_Unbelievable._

_My son_.

Not even twenty-four hours in and he had almost replayed his father's death. Looking back, she had had every right to worry about him enlisting. Risk-taking ran in his blood.

* * *

"Winona Kirk?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, is there a problem?"

_Every time_.

The overly anxious hospital clerk smiled with a nervous energy.

"No, no, of course not. How can I assist you?"

Ok, good. She could do this. Helpful people she could handle. It was the ones with the questions that drove her up the wall.

"I am here to see my son, Jim Kirk?"

The receptions typed a few things and then frowned.

"Is that his full name?"

Honestly?

"No, but I'm pretty sure you already know that. James Tiberus Kirk…"

I looked sideways at her.

"Is something wrong?"

Now she looked nervous. Now she really looked nervous.

"If you could wait in the lobby a minute, that would be wonderful, I need to find out some basic information. It seems that our database is currently experiencing some errors."

Ok… that works too.

"Yes, of course," flash a smile, "I'll just wait here."

This really didn't seem like a computer error.

_What on earth._

* * *

Like most things in Starfleet, their chief medical facility was extremely posh. Being the testing area for all of the latest technology, the San-Francisco unit was especially nice. Miles of glass and carefully arranged and genetically engineered plants made for the perfect environment for "healing and rest". The lobby itself reeked of money. The chairs were too comfortable and the pillows probably cost them two-hundred dollars a shot.

All things considered, it was a lot nicer than she cared to admit, and she was glad for it. Sometimes when things get really bad, it doesn't hurt to make the rest of it look nice.

"Mrs. Kirk"

_No heels. Interesting. Probably not a doctor._

"Yes?"

The woman looked stressed.

"You can come with me. You will be able to see your son in a little while."

Winona stared her down.

Tall, African American, gorgeous, and completely put together.

Also, no name-tag or medical scrubs.

_Therefore Starfleet. It's always Starfleet._

"Lieutenant Uhura of the U.S.S Enterprise. It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Kirk."

They walked through the massive complex in relative silence.

_Questions. Questions. Questions._

"Forgive me if I'm out of place, but can I ask how much you know about your son's situation?"

_Not as much as you, I'm sure of that._

"Not much, I just know he was serving as Captain of the enterprise when it crash landed due to damage from an enemy ship. Now he's in the hospital. I have literally know nothing else…. Oh, it was a doctor by the name of Leonard McCoy who told me."

She choked a little bit.

"Oh! Well then… we have a lot of catching up to do."

They had arrived at a small alcove by a string of hospital rooms. Clearly it was a private area as nobody was there and it was still way before visiting hours closed. It didn't even seem like there were any doctors in this part of the building.

"Would you like some coffee Mrs. Kirk?"

"Ok, so first, I just want to let you know that whatever I tell you is strictly for your ears and your ears only. Starfleet's words, not mine. This is all the truth, I can promise you that."

She placed her hands on my trembling ones.

_What was going on._

"Two and a half weeks ago the U.S.S Enterprise was sent on a mission to take down a terrorist by the name of John Harrison who had recently killed several Starfleet Officers, including Chris Pike."

_Chris! Oh god. He was… he had been a close friend._

The lieutenant's eyes saddened. This news had hurt her too.

"As you probably know, Jim had been close to the Captain. He was the one who enlisted him."

_I should have known._

"Anyway, he was upset and decided to go after Harrison. I can't really tell you the details of what happened, but the ship underwent extreme damage during the mission, and as you know, things started failing. One of the things to sustain heavy damage was in-fact the core of our ship. Jim knew that the crew couldn't possibly be saved unless he realigned the two parts of the core reactor. Nothing functioned on the ship without it. So he… he made the decision to enter the radioactive chamber to… well to realign the cores. It was his decision entirely, your son is a hero."

_Oh my god. What happened. What happened._

_Cut the frills._

"He… well, when he went into the chamber, the high levels of radiation… they got to him pretty quickly. We weren't able to get there fast enough…"

_No. NO._

"Ohmygod. He's _dead!_ He can't be, this is not…"

Tears.

"NO. Oh gosh, no, Mrs. Kirk, I am so sorry to have miss-lead you! Your son is alive!"

Winona was shaking frantically.

"We managed to… revive him using a serum that we created. It was complicated. He went through a lot of blood transfusions."

_Ok, this is fine. I can handle this._

"How… how long has he been out? Unconscious I mean. I'm assuming he's either unconscious or badly damaged because you haven't taken me to him yet."

She smiled.

"You're a smart woman. Jim's been out for two weeks now. Doctor McCoy thinks he should be out soon."

Silence.

"That's good then? Are they thinking he will make a full recovery or…"

Uhura leaned forward in the stiff hospital chair and took a sip of her now cooling coffee. Clearly she was exhausted. It was getting late for both of them.

"Honestly, we don't know yet. It could be…"

Just then they heard footsteps in the hallway and the Uhura stood up. The man who had entered was obviously Vulcan. He looked panicked, which actually wasn't supposed to be possible.

"Spock. Oh gosh, is he awake?"

He walked closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. Maybe they were dating.

"He's fine. You can come in."

The Vulcan turned to her.

"And may I ask who you are?"

_Another Starfleet officer. Apparently there's no medical personnel here. _

"Winona Kirk."

Spock raised an eyebrow at Winona.

"Mrs. Kirk, please follow me. I will see if you son is ready for visitors at the moment."

* * *

He took her down to the end of a hallway. It was probably one of the rooms set apart for the more distinguished members of Starfleet.

A serious looking doctor walked out of the room.

"Spock."

Whispering.

"He's not ready, you know it."

The Vulcan sighed.

"I believe it would be logical to ask Jim's opinion on the matter. Until then, I will ask Mrs. Kirk to wait here."

"Look, I don't want him to have a panic attack! Goddammit man, he's not ready for high levels of stress right now."

She looked up at them.

The man with the southern accent spoke to her.

"If you wouldn't mind waiting out here for a few moments while we sort this out, I should be able to let you know when you can see your son."

She nodded her head.

Now all that stood between her and her son was door.

_A door and twenty-two years of resentment._

* * *

**A/N: **That was probably REALLY boring and I am extremely sorry. If you loved it, or absolutely hated it, let me know! I'm curious! And fairly nervous.


	8. All Comes Crashing

Authors note: I feel so bad! I just. I discovered Sherlock, and then fanfiction, and then browsing... and you all know how that goes.

I just lost focus. Good news! Schools done! I can write more frequently.

Bad news for you, I am leaving for California, so I won't be able to update for two weeks as my family has no clue I do this and would shoot me if they found out :( My deepest apologies, extra updates upon my return.

Gracias for all the reviews and follow and such! It made my week :)

* * *

"The beginning is the most important part of the work."

― Plato, The Republic

_"What is it then, you like being the only genius-repeat offender in Iowa?"_

Voices.

_"Honey, what is it?"_

No, not just dreams. He could hear people speaking.

_"You good for nothing, son of a -"_

Everything sounded like it was coming from a long tunnel.

_"I believe in you Jim"_

But he was getting closer.

_"He's waking up. Any minute now. Check his pulse. One over..."_

Not just memories anymore then.

This was new. This was real.

Jim's eyes began to sense light and he felt everything snap into place.

_Pike._

_Khan._

_Enterprise._

_Damaged._

_Engineering._

_Core._

_Spock._

_Death._

_…. Oh. So this is heaven?_

_No. We've been through this already._

_Oh my god. I cannot have a second conscience. Not okay, not okay, I thought dead people couldn't be insane... not good... not..._

_Was that beeping?_

_Ok, now I have to find out._

_Somebody, turn off those freaking lights please..._

_Footsteps. Ok._

_Ok._

_I'm coming._

_I swear to god, if heaven involves an eternity of virginity and harp playing, I will move._

Jim's eyes opened up.

_That is bright, screw this._

_Holy crap, is that McCoy._

_He blinked around deliriously._

_Did he die too?_

"Oh, quit being so melodramatic."

_Ok, yeah, this is definitely real._

"You were barely dead, it was the transfusion that really took its toll. You were in a coma for two weeks."

_Two weeks! Fu- that's a long time man._

"Transfusion?"

_Come on, think. You've got this._

"Your cells were heavily irradiated. We had no choice."

_Right, because the ship was destroyed, so I had to go into that chamber. That did happen right?_

_Khan was the one who destroyed the..._

He had a sudden urge be somewhere. As far as he was concerned, there was still a problem to fix.

"Khan?"

McCoy was playing hardball with him, getting straight to the point, but he could tell that the answers to these questions were a lot heavier than he was letting on.

"We synthesized a serum from his... super blood. Tell me, are you feeling homicidal, power-mad, despotic?"

_And this is where i'm supposed to be clever._

"No more than usual."

They both smirked just a bit.

A door opened and Spock walked in hesitantly. Kirk looked a the man with a quiet intensity.

_It must have been. He was there in the end._

"You saved me."

Spock gave him a soft nod and a look of pride. He had done it. He had saved his friend. Even from death.

"You know, Uhura and I had something to do with it also."

Kirk could feel the eyeroll even through the brain-fuzz.

"Ok, so tell me."

_Or just let me sleep._

"First off, what on earth did you put me on. I feel like a cloud... or something."

_Clever. Reallly clever._

McCoy looked up tiredly.

"A bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo you wouldn't understand. Sedatives, painkillers, nutritional boosters... Until you off it, you should probably just sleep."

_Somehow I don't buy this shit._

"So... I died. Right?"

_Facial confirmation, nod. Sort of fuzzy._

"And then..."

McCoy couldn't have looked more exasperated.

Spock spoke up.

"Immediately after you saved the ship, we were able to steer the vessel into safety. Unfortunately, we could not avoid San Francisco thanks to some careful redirection from Khan. Although there was heavy damage sustained to both the city and the Enterprise, there were minimal casualties on land and substantially less casualties than could be expected on board."

Kirk looked lost, maybe even a little bit angry. Then again, it could have been the medication speaking.

"So they want me to give a speech."

McCoy and Spock both raised an eyebrow.

"They want me to give multiple speeches. And attend a few hundred meetings. Not to mention revoke my captains license."

McCoy sat down heavily. He looked extremely frustrated.

"They won't get off my back about it. Constantly, I have officials barging into my office asking exactly when you will wake up."

His hands slide across his face.

"I finally snapped. I told them that I didn't fucking know, and that they needed to give it time before you woke up. They threatened to take me off of your case. Apparently I was too emotionally compromised. Its not... not ok. None of this is ok. They want to use you. They need a scapegoat badly. They really fucked it up this time and that's the only thing between us and hell. You're a hero and they can't afford to let you fall. Its not going to be easy though. Once they catch wind of you getting up, you'll be sitting before a council before I can take the IV's out of your arm."

McCoy shut his eyes a ran his hands through his hair. He was freaked out. It scared Jim to death. He didn't want to see this anymore so the captain closed his eyes.

"Jim... are you awake? Its fine if you're not."

Jim opened his eyes again.

"Yeah. Shit. It's all crashing down isn't it?"

McCoy sighed.

Spock stared at the window with intensity.

"The threat is now on the inside."

The Vulcan turned, looking semi panicked.

"We must do everything we can to preserve this governments function in order to keep order for the rest of the Federation. While I do not believe it is our place to take leadership in the long term, I do believe our input is vital in restoring the vitality of this organization. We must reveal the truth of the recent events, or else I fear this government will be lead astray. I will not live to see another planet destroyed."

Both men stared at the Vulcan. It was hard to find words to say.

Not this medicated.

Not with this little sleep.

The Vulcan began to speak again.

"Also, Captain, I must inform you that..."

McCoy shot up panicked.

"Shut up man, shut up! I told you, we were not going to discuss this with him yet. Goddammit, he just woke up, he could retreat back into shock, we could lose weeks of work."

He was using that hushed tone that meant, you're not supposed to hear this, but you're going to anyway.

Sure... whatever that means.

Jim tried to sit up but his vision swam with the effort. It seemed that two weeks of disuse and intense medical procedure had shot his ability to function for the time, let alone digest what McCoy was saying.

"Wha... What the hell are you guys talking about."

They both whipped around. It would have been comical if he hadn't been the topic of conversation.

Spock spoke first.

"Your mother is here."

The next few minutes were chaos.

The first thing that happened was completely unacceptable.

McCoy punched the Vulcan in the nose hard enough that a snap could be heard.

Then a colorful bruise of language bloomed in the room.

Nobody knew that the doctors language was quite that dirty.

Next, a door opened.

Speak of the devil, it was Winona Kirk.

"Oh my goodness, are you guys alright, should I call security?"

Her phone was out and she was already dialing.  
She looked panicked beyond belief.

Spock immediately lifted a hand.

"Mrs. Kirk, I must ask you not to dial that number, we have this situation under control. Additionally.."

The vulcan winced in pain.

"I would ask you to leave the room immediately as we appear to be in a rather precarious position."

Precarious it was. The doctor was kneeled on the ground, apparently hiding from the world, and Spock wasn't exactly in a better spot. His nose was actually bleeding green.

Who knew.

Just then she saw Jim.

Mother and son made eye contact and no force, vulcan or human, could keep them apart.

She ran to his side.

He tried to speak, but closed his eyes immediately.

There were no words as memories assaulted him.

Memories a fields and broken homes.

Memories of empty rooms and lonely holidays.

Memories of burning ships and painful nights.

_You left me._

The captain passed out.

His mother cried.

McCoy nearly joined them.

"Fuck. God help us."

He yelled desperate curses as he scrambled for hypos and his pager.

The man needed help more than even he could understand.

He was out of his depth, and the water wasn't clean.

Before he could finish dialing the contact info for one of his more trusted nurses, the door to the hospital room burst open and security rushed in.

"Leonard McCoy, you are under arrest for misconduct and abuse of medical license. First commander Spock and Mrs. Winona Kirk, we must ask you to leave the room until this matter is settled and the patient is stabilized."

A doctor entered the room and Leonard McCoy left in handcuffs.

It had been fifteen minutes since James Tiberius Kirk had regained consciousness.

It had taken fifteen minutes to destroy everything that the doctor had worked for.

_Hell is this._

* * *

A/N: Oh my gosh! What have I done... I just wrote, and then all of a sudden McCoy was arrested, and then I was pissed at the author. Oh, wait. I wrote that. That... is what happens when you don't plan out what your doing. At. All.

Reviews help pay for McCoy's lawyers bill ;)


	9. Gray and Other Emotions

**Author's Note:** After nearly two weeks without internet or cellphone access and an overabundance of hippies and sun, I am back. Needless to say, California was wonderful.

Almost as wonderful as all the new followers, favoriters, and reviewers! Gracias!

Enjoy :)

* * *

He would have liked to say he went down with a fight.

Kicking and screaming.

Right conquering wrong.

However, when right is no longer clear, wrong always wins.

Leonard McCoy now knew this.

He slammed his fist into the metallic alloy of the bulletproof containment cell. He had come to the cell in a state of near shock.

Walking dead.

It was only after the cage was shut that his fury unravelled like the many pieces of his life.

Two words ran through his mind.

_Emotionally compromised._

He felt like a long-time member of a support group finally figuring out what the hell the rest of the crazies were saying.

_Hello, my name is Leonard McCoy, and three hours and some minutes ago I was emotionally compromised._

Heck, if a Vulcan could be "emotionally compromised", why the hell didn't he have the right to be?

_This isn't what this is about and you know it. Everybody is suffering from this._

Kirk was always emotionally compromised.

Emotion was what drove the kid.

It caused him a truckload of trouble, but it nearly always lead him to victory in the end.

A doctor could not afford this sort of luxury.

His medical oath stated clearly the need to do what is best for the patient. His own feelings about the matter were irrelevant at best, illegal at worst.

_Obviously._

Fist against wall.

Emotions against logic.

_Now I understand what Spock is such a little prat. This is a bear._

_Spock. Shit._

He hit the wall and felt Spock's nose there instead.

Then Jim's face.

Then his sweet daughters.

He put his hands over his face, blocking the images out of his mind.

McCoy was now smeared with a nice layer of blood.

_I need a drink. Then this bar fight would be complete._

An image of Jim slumped against a rusty stool, leather jacket and bloody napkin in hand crossed his mind.

_Holy- I am turning into my friends._

_What has this world come to._

Leonard suddenly became embarrassingly aware of the security guard's mask turned his way. Clear walls didn't leave for much... privacy.

The man in the robot suit stood up and walked toward him. When he pressed an invisible button to speak with him, the sound that came through sounded more clear than anything he had heard in a month.

"Punch that wall again, and I will knock you out."

It wasn't a hard decision.

Sleep over chaos.

Much simpler than right and wrong.

I wasn't until after the hypo entered his neck that he thought of Jim.

The last feeling through his mind was regret.

_Some doctor._

_Some friend._

* * *

Regret is a human emotion.

Spock did not understand regret.

_Perhaps I do not yet understand it because I do not know its appearance._

Sometimes logic told him it looks like anger, because that is how the words of someone experiencing regret sound.

However, more often than not, a human experiencing regret has a strong sadness in their face, frequently accompanied by tears.

Contradiction.

Hypocrites.

Right and Wrong.

These things are gray.

_Maybe regret is one of those things._

When Spock looked at the unconscious form of Leonard McCoy, he thought he felt a flash of regret.

However, like an animal, it was scared of by his advances and ran before the Vulcan could catch it.

Not even a feather was left for him to examine.

Because of this, the Vulcan was left standing in front of the glass cage that was the doctors prison cell searching for emotions.

He pulled anger from his mind.

Anger was easier.

Anger was like disagreement only stronger.

It filled him.

This was less because his nose was bleeding and more because an imbecile of a doctor was currently dealing with his closest human bond.

A thin voice woke him from the darkness of his thoughts.

The man was average in appearance and clearly even more average in mind. Yet, he held a device for unlocking doors in his hand, and Spock felt and intense wave of jealousy. He had been banned from the council meeting held next door over the matter and was certainly not permitted to speak with the doctor. Bringing him here to see the man had clearly only been to taunt him.

"He's to be released with an indefinite restraint on his medical license. It may not be my place to speak of such things, but I am sorry about the ordeal, I understand that you were probably wishing for a much... stronger punishment, however, the bail was paid by a generous benefactor and we were unable to find the grounds to keep him here."

The glare Spock gave would have made even James Kirk a shaking mess.

"Clearly you misunderstand. The only person I would wish such a punishment upon is yourself. We Vulcan's are very loyal. You would be wise to remember such."

He quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small grin to stretch across his face.

The man turned away reeking of fear and fury.

Fear was what lead to sorry excuse of a man to open the door.

However, it was Spock that carried the unconscious doctor from the room.

Despite the wrongs the man had committed, despite the pain in his nose, it felt right.

Right and wrong.

_Gray_

Life and death.

_Gray_

Regret and sadness.

_Gray_

Loyalty.

_Clear._

No, loyalty was nothing like regret.

* * *

When you watch your husband die a hero and your life shatters as consequence, one begins to hate heroics.

When you watch your son nearly do the same, hate is replaced by fear.

Running is the most natural instinct in this case.

Winona Kirk understood this very clearly.

Like a deer in the headlights, she ran from the hospital bed and didn't look back.

Even when the lieutenant she had met just an hour prior tried to stop her, she kept running.

She had been running for twenty years after all.

Why should that change now?

It was not that she didn't believe that she would regret the decision, it was just that fear was always stronger than regret.

For her, this fact was as clear as black and white.

Her life had been flying down this hill without breaks for a long time, and she didn't want to see the end.

As she started the car, she cried all the same.

* * *

**A/N: **Aha! No Jim? Saving that for later... mucho feedback might make later tommorow ;) Reviews for James Tiberius Kirk!


	10. Burning Questions

**Author's Note: **Doubly long chapter just for all my faithful followers! Hopefully I answer any confusion ya'll had over last chapter! I can definitely see where it would have gotten confusing.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Why?"

Nyota sat cross legged on a chair in a small cafe in San Francisco. The stunning view of the sunrise over the ocean was dampened significantly by the sleepless night prior. Her lack of energy made the rising sun seem mocking.

She stared at Spock while he formulated an answer to her question.

He was tired.

It wasn't something you could see in his skin, or in his energy level.

It was all his mannerisms.

Right now he sat ramrod-straight. His eyes darted to and from nervously, like somebody was searching for him and he didn't particularly want to be found. When he spoke, it was with a seriousness that held weight. He did not talk in his typical uptight, empty way, but thick with compassion and even fear.

No, this was not a Vulcan way of behavior.

He was filled with emotion.

It was slightly alarming.

Spock's concern permeated the processed air around them.

He finally spoke.

"Which why would you like me to answer?"

Said in a different tone, she would have berated him. However, it was clear by the emotions that were threatening to form words that he had answers, and questions too. He just needed her help.

Nyota sighed all the same.

"Why was McCoy arrested."

She fiddled with the handle of her coffee mug.

"First."

Spock looked at her sharply.

"What?"

She looked toward the window.

"I have more questions you know."

A pause. Nervous glances.

"I am not entirely sure that I wish to answer these questions. However, as it appears that this action would be most beneficial for our relationship, I will attempt to answer your questions to the best of my ability."

She leaned back in her chair.

"Thank you."

Spock pushed his own unfinished mug away. It was distracting. It was the caffeine. Probably.

"I will start at the beginning. When Jim's heart stopped, Doctor McCoy was forced to..."

She put her hand on Spock's.

More distractions.

He began to talk again.

She glared.

"Can we not make this a medical report? I know that somewhere in your mind you view him as a friend. The titles are..." She searched for a word with discomfort, "distracting."

Why she does not understand that titles are simply a way of organizing my thoughts is beyond my comprehension.

"Very well then. McCoy was forced to revive Jim with the serum with which he had earlier injected into the tribble. While the tribble did not thrive under the serum, it was revived, and the medical personnel understood that with the help of the cryotubes and the serum, Jim could be... saved. Of course you already know this part."

She nodded in solemn agreement.

"The problem lay in the timing on this decision. Had we had more time to consider this solution, we would have been able to contact Starfleet and have them clear our decision. As it stands, we were forced to break an endless number of Starfleet regulations in order to save the Captain, most of them relating to the fact we did not have permission from Starfleet to perform such an... unprecedented procedure."

He cleared his throat and she fidgeted.

Their drinks were cold and the faces around them had changed as the sun fell into its place in the sky.

"When we landed, this was one of the very first matters to be taken into consideration. Of course there were a multitude of other problems that were, and still are being taken care or, however, due to the newfound dilemma surrounding Admiral Marcus, the information that our crew, specifically that which the Captain held, were of a great significance to them. Additionally, it seems to be significantly easier for the higher-ups to deal with individual faults than the large picture and their own corruption. Because of this, McCoy was targeted as an... unstable individual."

She shifted forward in her chair.

He noticed that Nyota's eyes looked tired, and it was not simply her lack of makeup.

"I managed to convince the authorities to keep McCoy on the case of James Kirk, only because I assured them that he was the only one who fully understood the situation surrounding the Captain. They were very reluctant, however they need him alive because of the answers they fear he has in relation to Admiral Marcus and John Harrison. They reassured me however that if he made any mistakes or showed signs of instability, that he would be removed from the case."

She stood up and walked to the window. When she looked back it was with concern.

"So thats what happened to your nose?"

He coughed with a raised eyebrow.

"May I ask how you came to that conclusion?"

She faced the window again.

"You forget, I do not leave your side. I was right outside the door. The sound was just... muffled."

He nodded.

"Right, of course. I assume you understand then that the punch in question was of course over the matter of Winona Kirk?"

She sat back down.

"I assumed. It wasn't... wrong of you to let her in. However, it may not have been the right time."

A waitress walked by and refilled their mugs.

They took the time to reflect on harsh words and punches.

Nyota continued.

"She ran. Right after. She isn't coming back."

The look he gave her was full of hurt.

"I... I do not understand."

She put her hands over his and leaned in.

"Some humans," she whispered, "are brave. Some are too broken to remember what bravery is."

She kissed his hand softly.

"You will learn."

A glorious silence.

Fascinating.

She formed more words.

"After the fight?"

He came as close to a sigh as she had ever heard from him.

"They drug him away. I followed closely behind, but at my arrival to the containment facility nearest the hospital, guards stopped my entrance and asked me to remain outside a conference room. 42 minutes later officials began to arrive to discuss the... misconduct of Leonard McCoy. They asked me to leave and I was unable to overhear their conversation. I spent my time watching the doctor who had been knocked unconscious by a security guard after he became volatile. During this I decided that despite his wrongdoing to me, my loyalties remain true to him."

He smiled slightly.

"Afterward a man came to talk to me to discuss the verdict of the meeting. While I was pleased to find that he was to be released due to insufficient evidence to bring to court on the count of assault. The man released Leonard and informed me that... his medical license is to be 'temporarily' suspended."

She looked down with intense sadness.

After a moment she stared into his eyes and asked the question that had been plaguing them since the start.

"Who is taking care of Jim?"

The moment of silence after the question was deafening.

He met her gaze with regret.

"We don't know. His doctor banned me and several other people involved in the incident surrounding Jim's relapse from visiting him in order to stabilize him. An understandable yet misinformed decision. I regret to inform you that you were placed on this list. For the time being, we are in the dark on Jim's situation. I'm sorry."

She fingered with the silky tablecloth.

"So thats why you are not with Jim right now."

Spock gave a pained reply.

"Unfortunately. I also believe that was your third question."

She didn't smile.

Spock finally understood regret.

It was in the plight of others that one can find such a sensation.

Sometimes, finding the truth surrounding an emotion required much pain.

* * *

Doctor Dmitriev was the doctor to take Doctor McCoy's place in the great drama that was unfolding. His Russian last name was nearly as hard to swallow as his bedside manner, which would later leave Jim feeling like there might be some chance at justice in the world. After all, McCoy was hardly known for his flawless temperament. Familiarity is comfort.

Dmitriev was currently more than slightly thrown off by the case at hand, seeing as it surrounded a resurrected body, cryotubes, and serum from the blood of a super human.

No, he was not a wizard, and no, he did not learn this is medical school.

He felt a sudden stab of pity for the poor soul dealing with the case initially.

As he stood reading the charts on the PADD in front of him, he was met with even more confusion. Why did this man have so many allergies? Why did he have nearly three years missing medical data? Some documented physiological issues, including frequent nightmare, insomnia, and ADD also appeared. These weren't unusual, however, they did beg the question of whether or not the man was ever suited to be captain of a starship.

He looked over to James T. Kirk as the monitors on the wall began beeping to indicate a change in sleep cycle. The doctor watched as his eyes flicked to and forth in his soon to end sleep.

The monitor silenced itself and the Captain's eyes opened.

Like a teacher, the doctor made mental notes in his head to get to know the patient, to know what he was dealing with.

He looked at the PADD in front of him.

Eyes: Blue.

Check.

That was about all he truly knew at the moment. Of course, he knew all about his accomplishments at Starfleet, but believe it or not, "saved the world multiple times" didn't say much about his personality or medical history.

"Who are you, and where is Leonard McCoy?"

The man's voice was raspy from disuse, but the way he stressed his words made it very evident that he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

In this sort of situation, it is always wisest to make your answer as close to the truth as possible.

"I am Doctor Dmitriev, and I am here to replace Doctor McCoy as your temporary physician."

The doctor could clearly see the fear in the kid's eyes and he wondered what had warranted it.

"The Doctor is unable to attend his duties as a physician, due to the fact his medical license was suspended in wake of the... accident that happened in this room yesterday."

Kirk clenched his eyes shut. It could have been the foreign light or a headache, but he knew that the real reason for his reaction was emotional.

"Shiz... So that wasn't just a dream then. Frick. Ok. Not good, not good. Its all a mess."

He could tell the kid was in pain now, both emotional and physical. There was something cloudy and slow about his reactions, and his words clearly indicated distress.

"I know this must be hard for you, but if you are feeling up to it, I need to do a preliminary examination to ensure that there were no side-effects of the procedure. If you feel like that is not possible at the time, you are strongly suggested to sleep. I assume you already know most of what happened, however, I am not allowed to give you anymore information at this time."

He gave the doctor a withering but knowing look. This wasn't the first time Jim had dealt with this sort of situation.

"Wait. First, what happened to my mother? Where did you put her. Also, where are Spock and Lieutenant Uhura."

Again. Anger.

More fear than anger though.

"I am strongly suggested to not give you any information concerning your mother, due to the fact it may distress you further. Your friends are otherwise occupied, but safe."

Jim could have punched the guy.

"However, as I doubt you will accept that for an answer regarding your mother, I am sorry to say that she left. We don't know anything about her whereabouts, and that is the truth."

Dmitriev had an intense look of pity on his face.

Jim hated pity.

He turned away from the doctor and closed his blue eyes.

"Figures."

It was hardly more than a whisper.

"I think i'll wait on the exam."

The doctor frowned at the screen in his hands.

"If that is your decision. Do you need a sedative?"

Kirk seemed to hide farther into himself as he considered this.

"Yes."

For the the new doctor, this was a likely response to this question. Patients rarely declined drugs that would put them out of pain.

However, James Tiberius Kirk was not your typical patient.

Not having Leonard McCoy as his doctor was not simply unfortunate.

It was dangerous.

* * *

**A/N:** Whatcha think? Any ideas for where I should go with this? I'm open to any story ideas!


	11. Relief and Discovery

**Author's note: **Today it hit me that Eomer is actually McCoy and I was like W. T. F. I have literally seen these movies like 5000 times and this never hit me... I'll never be the same.

If things start to get funky and off in this chapter, let me know! I am woefully untrained in the world of Star Trek and medical, so if their are glaring errors, i would not be offended by any negative comments...

Thanks again for all the feedback!

* * *

Dr. Dmitriev found himself again staring at the PADD in front of him completely befuddled. While he was no longer obligated to follow instructions from the previous physician, it was highly advised that he look over them for important notes. The physician prior had written instructions advising that no sedatives, medications, or pain relievers were to be administered to James Tiberius Kirk until proper blood tests could be performed.

This was highly unusual considering that the extremity of the blood transfusions would be extremely taxing on the body and potentially deadly without immune boosters. Also, it would have been highly painful to have undergone the transfusions without a strong sedative or pain reliever.

"Did your Physician..."

"McCoy"

_Ok, not an easy patient._

"Doctor McCoy wrote in these notes that you are not allowed to be administered any sedatives, medications, or pain-relievers prior to blood transfusions. Is that right?"

The captain laughed a bit. It sounded strangled.

"Sorta right. Not really. I hope"

James blinked heavily, and the new doctor began to read the signs of pain on his patient's face.

"James, do you know..."

"Jim, my name's Jim."

Agitation. It could be seen easily on both of their faces. Neither one wanted to be there.

"Did Doctor McCoy administer you any medications during your hospitalization here?"

"How the hell am I sposed to know. I was totally out of it."

_Correction, still totally out of it._

"Ok, different question. How are you feeling."

Jim looked around a bit.

"If I knew what the heck was going on, I'd be feeling a lot better."

Dr. Dmitiriev could have walked out right then. He really wanted to.

"Ok, I can't solve that problem. How are you feeling. Physically."

Jim looked at the doctor with shocking blue eyes loaded with skepticism.

"Fine. Cloudy. Like shit."

Both men gave a strange laugh for completely different reasons.

"Which is it."

Kirk made a move to sit up.

"Cloudy. Lets go with that."

The doctor glared at his patient.

"Sit down."

Kirk glared back.

"I'm not going to give you anything, until I can get a hold of Doctor McCoy. I don't want to further compromise your system."

_Hopefully he's not lying about pain levels._

There was a pause of consideration.

"Get me a line to Bones, and I'll fill you in on the holes in my medical file."

Jim didn't think even Bones could scowl that impressively.

The doctor looked his patient over.

_No he won't._

"Who's Bones."

Jim looked at the window.

"Doctor McCoy."

The doctor paced around the luxurious hospital suite for a couple minutes without words.

"Deal. I need to speak with him anyway. I am going to call in a nurse to look over you temporarily. I will see what I can do to let you speak with Doctor McCoy. Don't try anything."

After a few calls and nervous fidgeting from Kirk, a nurse entered the hospital room and the doctor left..

If he had been drunk, Jim would have flirted with her.

Right now though, everything was just weird.

He could feel the sedative Bones had given him yesterday wearing off, and it was causing a strange sensation in his head. He wasn't lying when he said he was feeling cloudy. Its what sedatives do to you. The oddest feeling though, was what was happening to him currently.

He could feel the fog in his head literally lifting, the new blood accepting his body.

It rendered him speechless.

_Almost as powerful as the dryness of my throat._

"Can I get water."

_Not a good flirting voice. Girls don't like scratchy._

The nurse had been pretending to read his chart but was definitely checking him out. He was a Kirk. He had to notice things like that.

She quickly rushed off and returned a hospital issue cup.

As he felt the fluids hit his system, even more clarity filled him, making the room feel overly bright. His thoughts were flying around his head at warp speed.

_Khan._

_McCoy._

_Spock._

_Uhura._

_Pike._

_Enterprise._

_Radiation._

_Vengeance._

Then he was struck with a thought. Just an inkling of an idea.

_Play dumb for a minute._

"So they injected me with... what was it... some sorta.. super-human blood?"

She looked at him sheepishly.

"I'm not really allowed to say, but I heard through the grapevine that its true." She giggled like an idiot.

He grinned back.

"So, want to test it out?"

She grew red.

"What do you mean? Sure, i guess!"

_Charm always works._

"Just let me walk around a bit. See if i'm healing at super-speeds."

She giggled. Again.

"Ok... if you're sure you're feeling okay."

He grinned.

"Of course I am."

It was the truth actually. Even as they spoke, his mind was clearing up, giving him a more accurate understanding of things. If anything, his mind was moving too fast. He was fairly certain that his body would do the same.

He stood up.

Too quickly.

The world spun.

He grabbed hold of the bio-bed and let his vision load.

The nurse moved to grab hold of him.

"Wait. I've got this."

He felt drunk.

It didn't stop him from walking though.

He took a few tentative steps before everything clicked in.

Jim walked around the room a few times.

It felt too slow, easy, boring.

So he dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups.

At first they felt weak and foreign, then it became easier and easier.

Kirk realized something.

He was having an easier time now than he ever had before the procedure.

The nurse could have passed out in shock.

She didn't even expect him to be able to walk.

"Oh. My. God."

He just looked at her.

Then it set in.

Khan's blood.

_(Flashback)_

_"I am better."_

_"At what?"_

_"Everything."_

If she hadn't grabbed hold of him in that moment, the floor would have been far too close to his face for comfort. His brain was having quite the time of trying to figure out what the heck happened to his body.

By the time the doctor came back, Kirk was out like a light.

The nurse, god bless her innocent soul, didn't mention a thing.

* * *

Nyota loved running.

She loved the focus it gave her, the intense peace of mind.

When she ran, she was able to streamline all her problems into each step, conquering them while her body worked.

Uhura liked feeling her muscles stretch like elastic and bend back on impact. The feeling of going somewhere by your own power entirely, and feeling the pride after battling your mind on whether or not to leave the front door.

It made her feel strong and invincible.

If she failed at everything else, at least she could run.

In a way, that was happiness.

Peace of mind.

When she ran, she felt true and honest success.

The results came as she was doing it, not in a slow, unproductive fight.

Perhaps the greatest reason why she loved it was that it is maybe the only thing in her life that the rest of the world really couldn't care less about.

When you're on a starship, the four-hundred other crew members put their lives in your hands. They care about what you do, because in the end, it determines what they do.

When you're in a relationship, everything you say matters, because anything you say could end everything.

When you're playing the part of a diplomat, everything you say and do matters, because one wrong move could start a war.

When you're running, nothing matters but you and the road. Nobody gets hurt.

Its just you against your body.

In times like these, she needed that.

This is why Nyota found herself running on an ungodly amount of sleep, completely dehydrated, and tired beyond belief.

Peace of mind.

_Its important like that._

She glided along the carefully designed paths of the academy and was surprised to find the paths mostly empty, despite the fact it was only eight-thirty. Still light out for July.

It became even more startling once she ventured outside of the academy.

Even in the most posh areas, you saw not only a lack of people, but a scene of destruction and desolation.

_The Vengeance._

When your personal life gets spun into a web, its hard to remember how much the rest of the world suffered, and what she saw was living proof of this.

Part of the downtown district was almost completely decimated thanks to the initial landing of the ship. Only the crushed bases of buildings and small memorial set with flowers remained.

She stopped running to take it all in.

Instead she walked slowly, with the care of a mother trying not to wake her child.

The pain here was so fresh for the world, it was hard to believe that what she was seeing now in the twilight was real.

She wandered like this for awhile. It was dark before she sat down.

Nyota sat and prayed to whatever god would listen to lead the world back in place.

Somehow it felt right to look to a higher power when everything she knew had failed.

As the lieutenant looked across her to one of the few buildings not completely destroyed by the crash, and could have sworn she say movement.

One any other day, it would have been expected, however, the area had been completely evacuated.

_Maybe I'm more dehydrated than I thought._

She looked back down at her hands and tried to see their outline in the dark, just for reassurance.

Then she heard a quiet sound of metal hitting metal not all that far away.

Nyota looked up immediately and was greeted by a flash of pale blue eyes reflecting in the moonlight not far away.

Then it was gone, just as fast as it had came.

She stared intensely at the building across from her again, and as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she began to recognize it as the place where they were temporarily storing the 72, now 71, of Khan's army.

Where its doors were, there was a long shadow in that indicated an open door.

A crack large enough for a human to slide through.

It was then that she realized that she had never heard the full story of what the had done with John Harrison.

Intense shivers ran down her spine and she ran like all the demons in the world were chasing her.

_Its not over yet._

The door to Spock and Uhura's apartment opened and was shut with gusto not entirely called for.

Spock was reading a novel on Alexander the Great on their sofa. He didn't bother to look up.

Nyota immediately ran into the bathroom and shut the door carefully.

She breathed heavily against the wall, more in panic than exhaustion.

"Long run?"

It was a muffled question through the door, but it startled her all the same.

"Yeah. You and your super-human ears."

She could practically hear the gears whirling in his head.

"Yes, Vulcans do have exceptional hearing abilities when compared to the average human."

She sighed. Flirting with him was flighty business.

"I'm going to shower, i'll join you later."

Uhura heard footsteps leaving the door and sighed in relief.

When she went running the next morning, Spock questioned her on why she was running twice in twenty-four hours.

After all, it was hardly her normal schedule.

She blamed it on being cooped up on a ship for too long.

How treadmills didn't make for a satisfying run.

However, she found path taking the same way as last night and she was sitting across from the building in record in time.

The door was completely shut and there was no life in sight.

She left as soon as she managed to confirm this fact in her mind.

Had she stayed longer, she would have heard a soft chuckle coming from a pile of ruin less than thirty meters to the side of her.

As it was, she blamed the previous night on dehydration and lack of sleep.

Exhaustion had done stranger deeds after all.

* * *

_3 Hours Later_

Spock stood in front of Spock Prime.

It was something he did not do often, as he found it to be unsettling and strangely sentimental.

"I am in need of your help."

The elder looked with compassion on his younger self.

"Yes, I suppose you do. Would this matter relate to Doctor McCoy and Jim Kirk by any chance?"

Spock held his ground and kept his eye contact steady.

"Yes. I fear that Doctor McCoy has been relieved of his medical license temporarily. This puts James Kirk in a very... compromised position, and I do not wish to see what the outcome of his mental state might be under the care of his current doctor, even if the man does do a sufficient job dealing with his physical problems."

Spock Prime put his hand on the shoulder of his younger counterpart.

"I too have worried much on the matter, seeing as my clearence level gave me access to this information early on. However, when I researched the men who made the decision to suspend his medical license, I found that they should not in fact be authorized to do so. I also strongly suspect that when we look back at the security footage, we will find that the security guards hired to handle the situation were not, in fact, on duty that day, and that the security cameras were not activated in the conference room."

Spock had the tact to keep his composure at his last segment.

"Your doing I would assume?"

Spock Prime chuckled softly.

"An elder has the right to keep his secrets. Under a just trial, I believe that Doctor McCoy will receive a much more favorable verdict. You will be sent the full details on the proceedings of the trial this afternoon."

Spock looked at the ground with relief palpable in his eyes.

"Thank you."

The traditional Vulcan sign passed both their hands and they parted without a word.

Understanding was a beautiful thing.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for all the glorious feedback! It helped alot :) Reviews motivate tired authors...


	12. Hope and Fear

**Author's Note**: I'm just having a lot of running related emotions and its making me write really slowly. Long runs make you all philosophical and jazz... and really spacey. Therefore getting anything done that's not running related such as this story is like... what?

There's my rant for why updates are slow.

Also, there will be a considerable amount of heavy language in this chapter, but only because I feel like it is in character, especially given their situation. I don't use this language in reality, and hopefully nobody finds this offensive.

* * *

"Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart."

― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Bones found that in times of trial, his dramatic side was brought to life with alarming intensity.

Because of this, his current position left him musing without restraint. It was disgustingly unproductive really.

_There was a time when no-one knew what what happening, so nobody cared. It was a time when secrecy was an option. Men ruled the world alone because of their DNA, so countries train wrecked, idiots started wars, and fist-fights were more acceptable than hugs._

_Nobody knew what they were doing, so they prayed to gods in hope of answers and sat back and watched as the world blew up before their eyes._

_Admiral Marcus had belonged in this time._

_He wanted war._

_Marcus was a man who wanted to watch the world burn._

Bones was a doctor, and he didn't like their sort.

Sure, it created supply and demand, but there were enough sick people out there to fill a continent. Heck, just the 400 temporary citizens of the Enterprise were more than enough for him to deal with.

Leonard McCoy was laying on an overly soft couch in a hotel as close to the hospital as he could find in short notice. He was fairly drunk on emotions and tackling an incredible hangover from the night prior.

After all, it wasn't everyday that your medical license was suspended.

He heard a sharp rapping on the door. It was one in the afternoon.

"Who is it?"

He heard the person play with the doorknob.

Maybe it was Spock.

"Scotty, the only engineer worth two cents around this place!"

So not Spock after all. Darn. A chance to apologize would have been very reassuring.

"Come in."

Even to his ears, McCoy's voice sounded ragged.

"The door's locked."

F- this.

He dragged his sorry self off the overly-nice furniture of the hotel suit and fumbled with the doorknob.

The Scottish man looked about as chipper as ever, if not slightly tired. It could have easily been a hangover.

He was out of his typical Starfleet attire and wore a pair of Levi's and a ratty plaid shirt. It was refreshing after all the bureaucratic bull-crap he had had to deal with the past few weeks.

"Well you look like shit."

Scotty had never been one to beat around the point.

"Hell of a way to greet a friend."

Scotty just smiled in that overly chipper way that made a pessimist feel like roadkill.

The engineer took the incentive to take a seat on the furniture that was distinctly neither of theirs. Too clean, too girly.

He pulled out a PADD without hesitation.

"Have ya gotten the news?"

Bones poured water into an obnoxiously unseasoned coffee maker, making a firm attempt to keep Scotty from getting a closer look at him. He felt like one of his insufferable patients.

"Depends on the news. I certainly haven't gotten anything positive if thats what your asking."

He faced Scotty to ask if he wanted something to drink.

Scotty looked at him with serious eyes, taking in the nearly purple shadows under his eyes and the strong lines making their home on his face.

"You're takin' this buisness wit' Jim quite hard aren't ya. Ya know, its not your fault that you can't..."

McCoy slammed the cabinet door with an unnecessary ferocity that shut Scotty up mid sentence.

"You're damn right I am! Some idiot with a badge is taking care of the patient that I saved from the very clutches of death. He was DEAD Scotty, and I saved him. Now they take this project away from me, and risk Jim's life for a political power play. I have half a mind to quit Starfleet, and i'm very, very serious.

Scotty looked down at the glass of the coffee table, then returned his gaze back to the struggling doctor.

"Your right. Its not fair. This shouldn't have happened. None of it."  
Leonard gave a grumble of agreement.

"Which is why you'll want to read this."  
Scotty handed the PADD in question to the distraught Doctor. He noticed that the man's hand was swollen and bruised.

"I swear, if this is more bad news i'm going to jump out of this f-... Holy man. Is this what I think it is?"

Scotty stood up from the chair and looked dead into his eyes.

"The decision wasn't legal. I got the papers from Spock. The council who questioned you and put you in jail weren't authorized. We suspect they were working with Marcus. You know how much they need a scapegoat more than I do anyway. The trials in two days."

McCoy stumbled around the apartment taking in the weight of this newfound knowledge.

"I still punched a civilian in the face. I'm not going to get off free on that one and you know it."

Scotty made a move to grab the coffee that McCoy had made, but set it down at the glare that he received from the doctor.

"Not unless you can prove that you were protecting the safety of the patient. Between you and me, Spock told me that he is more than willing to confess that he was directly ignoring the direct orders of a superior officer and that the punishment was necessary given the circumstance."

McCoy stopped pacing and stared out a window at the wrecked city of San Francisco.

"I owe the Vulcan a whole freaking planet."

Scotty looked at him without amusement.

"Yeah, yeah ya do."

* * *

The nightclub was too loud, too dark, and too cheap.

The girls who frequented here spent their days in the beds of strangers, high out of their minds.

They danced without shame for low-life men because they were too far gone to care.

Their barely there dresses never cost much, and their sky high heels weren't made so much for how they looked, but for how they accented their assets.

If you weren't looking, these women appeared to be the only thing you could spend money at this establishment, apart from obscene amounts of alcohol.

However, if you knew who to ask, you could find a man with a staggering number of gold chains in a back office of the club. The office was guarded informally by a group of low-life women, but it didn't take much more than a few dollars to persuade them into looking elsewhere.

The man didn't deal drugs, not exclusively.

He put that job in the charge of people who were much less concerned with the value of their life.

No, he dealt in information.

In this age, this service was invaluable.

Just above the office, a group of men lived and trained as spies of sorts.

They could break into nearly any government facility to hack information with the right incentive.

For a large sum of money and a few favors, these men were willing to kill any given target.

They were in it for the money, not the results.

However, the client who walked into the office at nine-forty five that night was not interested in assassination or closely guarded secrets. He needed to know the address of several starfleet officials.

Due to events that had occurred over one-hundred years ago, it was not possible to find the address of public officials in any database.

Word of mouth was your only option, and when the world knows your face, a one-on-one conversation with an official for guarded information was not possible.

Why did the world know this man's face?

For the same reason that the dealer who ran the office did not call for his highly trained men to deal with the situation.

Because this man had shocked the world and shrouded it in fear.

As the man who occupied the office looked at his client, he gulped in fear.

He knew this face.

This face had jet black hair and blue eyes that were cloaked in a layer of icy silver.

It had been on the news far too much for anyone's comfort.

The supposedly dead man circled around him and grabbed his weapon and put it the firm grip of his ivory hands.

"I seek a favor."

His voice was like a jaguar.

Fierce and without mercy.

It vibrated in a way that filled the room completely.

"What do you want?"  
The dealer's own voice quivered in fear.

"I seek an address."

The dealer looked at the wall opposite him in scepticism. He could feel the cold metal of the gun press against his head.

"Who's address. I can give it to you. N-no charge."

Better save your life than a couple hundred dollars. He hardly needed the money anyway.

The cold metal of the gun did not separate from his skin.

"I need the address of Commander Anderson as quickly as is possible. I trust you know where to find it."

The whisper was like ice on the skin of the terrified man.

He scrambled through a notebook to find the requested information, then proceed to tear it out the without hesitation.

His fingers trembled as the tall man snatched the paper away.

"You... You're sup-p-os-sed to be d-dead."

The terrorist removed the gun from his head and stared at the man in an odd sort of way that made the dealer melt away in fear.

"Troublesome isn't it... I have a promise to keep."

He adjusted his fingers on trigger of the gun.

"I do not take promises lightly."

The ice-man seemed to stop moving entirely as he considered the dealer.

"It has been said that death is the closest one can come to immortality. Say one word to another soul of our exchange and you will find the truth of the matter for yourself."

The mysterious client then disappeared with the gun into the faceless crowd.

The dealer never spoke a word about the encounter.

A man doesn't need to be alive to be dangerous.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows :) Keep up the good work!


	13. Secrets in the Dark

**Author's Note:** If my plot gets very lost, and you manage to find it, let me know, and I will perform CPR. I think I just kind of write and see what happens and I finish, revise grammatical errors, and go... hmm, it will be really interesting to see what the character's decide to do today. If i don't know what to write i'm usually just like, lets introduce a new conflict so i don't have to deal with that one. Which i'm pretty sure is only effective when playing Risk. Oh well.

* * *

"Iowa isn't even a real place."

Kirk looked at the doctor in vague amusement.

"Tell me about it. The level of ignorance in most of the population is astounding. Plus its like negative fifty in the winter and windy all the flipping time. I hate wind..."

The wind reminded Kirk of his childhood. It reminded him of car chases, foot races, and lost voices. It was windy at recess, on the bus, on the walk home from school. It had been so windy on the dedication day of George Kirk Park, that the tables had threatened to blow away with the tears on his mother's face. Mostly wind reminded him on the years he spent alone on the plains after he dropped out of High School.

His only way of income had been through trouble in those days.

He didn't have company except when he went to bars, and he hadn't been able to afford a stereo system for over a year.

In the abandoned farmhouse that became his home, wind was the only sound he heard.

Jim was ripped from his musings by the doctor.

"What was it like in Iowa?"

Jim thought for a minute.

"Lonely."

The doctor looked back at his PADD.

"It says here you never finished school."

Jim laughed.

"Maybe i'm just not that bright."

The doctor laughed too.

"Your IQ test speaks differently."

Why had he dropped out of school?

The obvious answer was that he was bored. However, there was a much more honest answer. It was the same answer as every troubled kid who ever fought the public school system had.

_(Flashback)_

_I look at the clock._

_It's 10:23 on a Wednesday and school doesn't end till 2:55._

_I'm already at the end of my rope for the day and I know the rest of the week will only be worse._

_It's a god awful day because last night was a god awful night. Because of my ass of a stepfather, my incompetent mother, and my failure of a brother._

_Bile rises to my throat thinking of last night._

_My hands clench._

_My knuckles turn white._

_He left amid all our suffering and our plans._

_Everything he had ever promised me._

_I picture in my head the night before and the classroom in front of me disappears._

_In my head I hear Sam knock on the door and remember how I was planning on saying something stupid to him, about how he never shuts the door or something. Up until last night I had viewed him as the one person who was kind to me like that. Respecting my space, my property, my thoughts._

_When he came into my room, he looked upset and hopeful and pained in a way that made fear what he had to say. My mother sometimes wore an expression like this._

_Then I realized he was holding a large duffel bag in his hand._

_That was when I realized that something was really, really wrong._

_He knew it too._

_"I'm going."_

_He says it with a finality that couldn't be drowned by the raging wind outside my bedroom window._

_I try to say something, anything, but the words won't come out._

_"Good luck Jim."_

_He shuts the door and never looks back._

_I sit on my bed in silence._

_After that everything became a blur._

_All I knew is that when I come back around to reality, my knuckles are bloody and my pictures are smashed along with the mirror, and my life is in shambles._

_The first rays of sun begin to reflect off of the shattered glass and I make a decision to go to school, because I cannot possibly face my stepfather on a day like today because it really might kill me._

_Once I got to school, I knew I looked like crap even though I didn't look in the mirror, because the girls won't quit asking me questions and the guys keep making stupid jokes. You can tell that they know what really happened last night, because the attendance list is missing a Kirk, and Sam never missed a day._

_I usually try to cover up these danger days with charming stories and tales of my "great adventures". Charisma makes this easy._

_Today though, I don't have a story to tell._

_Not even when my teacher stops me after class._

_She's the picture of middle age and I don't have a lot of respect for her._

_She lives and breaths textbook definitions. I also suspected she was secretly crushing on me._

_Boring, Boring, Bored._

_She calls my name again as the minute bell rings and I stop._

_"Jim, is everything ok?"_

_I snap back._

_"Fine."_

_"You were being awfully distracting in class today."_

_I looked at her with disgust._

_"I didn't even say anything."_

_She gave a lost look._

_"You looked distracting."_

_Jim laughed darkly._

_"That sounds like a personal problem."_

_Was she actually blushing?_

_"I'm not going to send you to the principal's office young man, but one more situation like this and..."_  
_No, I did not need to hear the rest of it. I had heard this lecture a hundred times from every authoritative figure in this town since I can remember._

_My eyes zone on the dull yellow of the windowless walls and the words of the teacher become nothing more than the dull drone of a fly's wings. Suddenly it hits me with a wave of clarity._

_I couldn't stay here._

_Not for the rest of the day, not for the rest of the year._

_Not while there were so many secrets floating around in the dark._

_I walked out, ignoring the protests of my teacher and the questions raised by my classmates._

_I was fifteen._

_I never looked back._

_(End Flashback)_

"Jim, are you alright? I need you to stay with me, its important you stay conscious during these tests... I think I lost you there for a minute."

Jim looked back at the doctor who was currently taking blood samples from him. He was feeling faint and delirious from both the procedures and now the tests. It was hard to stay in the present world, let alone focus.

"I was bored."

The doctor didn't look up from the needle.

"What?"

"I was bored with school."

The doctor looked at him seriously.

"Somehow I don't doubt it."

Jim wished that his problem was boredom.

It would be so much easier than what he was attempting to deal with now.

Currently, he was dealing with the pain of not knowing, and not knowing what was happening to his friends was in many ways worse than not knowing what was happening with his body.

The events of a few hours ago, when he passed out, could easily be written off as adrenaline or medication, whereas the state of his friends could not.

"Do you know what's happening to me yet?"

The Russian still refused to make eye contact with the captain.

"No."

_Damn._

"And my friends?"

The doctor looked again at his charts.

"Right now your only concern should be sleeping."

* * *

Nyota kissed the lips of her boyfriend softly.

She felt the tense muscles of his shoulders relax at her touch and relief fluttered in her.

Here, with him, she found peace.

Peace in knowing that she could make a difference in his life, and that if she should ever need it, he would be there.

"Spock."

She breathed his name into his parted lips.

They separated slightly, hands still connected.

"I saw something yesterday. While I was running."

She looked down at his feet.

"I saw something move in the evacuated area.. and it could have just been my mind, but then I thought I saw the doors open, and I thought maybe it could have been you-know-who, but I don't want to..."

Spock looked down at her beautiful eyes in concern.

"Nyota, I fear what you are saying does not make sense. You need to sleep"

She sighed and held him close.

"Just... just be careful. For me."

* * *

A tall man walked silently along the ocean.

In the cold light of the moon, all you could see was the soft shifting his coat.

To the casual onlooker, he could have been a stargazer, a wandering soul, a restless insomniac.

However, if you were to look at his face, study his features, pay attention, you would notice that he was a man on a mission.

Somewhere on his walk, he would take a turn inland and walk up a private staircase that led to a rather expensive manor.

Inside of the manor lived Commander Anderson and his family.

His wife was gone, an affair most likely, and his son was sleeping over at his friends.

It was very convenient really.

When the tall man reached the front door of the manor, he did not knock down the door or pick the lock.

He simply rang the doorbell.

The man who answered was disheveled from sleep and looked more than a bit irritated at having a visitor so late at night.

That was of course until he saw the man's face and the gun peeking out of his left coat pocket.

The agitation in his face was replaced by intense fear and disbelief.

"Wh-why... h-how... wh-what..."

The tall man put a finger over the trembling lips of the man.

"Shh... I am not going to shoot you yet. I need you. You owe me a favor."

The man, if possible, shook even harder.

"Wh-what favor?"

"I need you to finish what was started three years ago. I need you to make sure that no matter what happens me and my crew will never return to the world of the living."

The man closed his eyes in resignation.

"I need you to make sure that no matter what happens, no others are put in my situation. Should you fail or speak a word of our encounter, your family, your friends families, and all who are close to you will suffer the consequences. It would only be fair."

Khan pulled out the gun but did not pull the trigger.

"Do not disappoint me."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for all the beautiful feedback! Reviews save the lives of innocent civilians.


	14. Gone

**A/N:**Thanks for sticking with me and the twists and turns of this story! If anybody has any ideas for what I should do with Khan, feel free to send me your ideas. I have a plan, but its definately very flexible and any imput would be a gorgeous thing!

* * *

"I don't want to die without any scars."

― Chuck Palahniuk, _Fight Club_

When one is preparing for something that will determine the rest of their future, sometimes even everyday things are incapacitatingly stressful.

_Like the buttons of a uniform. _

He fumbled with the small gold objects in frustration.

The doctor couldn't help but assess his current state. His mind was wired from years and years of medical school to work like this after all.

_Shaking hands. Lack of sleep and a slight caffeine overdose most likely. Could possibly be caused by lingering affects of alcohol. Recommend staying away from stimulants and alcohol. Sleep a solid eight hours a night._

Life was annoying like that. Even when you try your hardest to be something you are not, just for the sake of focusing on the important things, you can't, because in the end, you are you. A doctor can't play at being a criminal and an adrenaline junky never can stay away from danger.

It's what keeps the world turning. Cause and effect. Action and consequence. People like Jim kept the world busy and McCoy fixed the damage. It just was.

McCoy looked in the mirror in frustration.

The shadows under his eyes were dark and his dress uniform looked wrinkled and worn from day after day of debriefing.

He was sick of it all.

He wanted his license back, he wanted his friends back.

He wanted to know what the hell was going to happen.

Leonard looked nervously at the clock that seemed to watch over him like a guard.

The trial was in an hour and forty minutes.

It made him sick just thinking about it.

In a way, he was thrilled to be given another chance to live, to breathe, to resume his life as it was before. However, it was terrifying all the same. His fate was in the hands of strangers, and if this failed, he would lose more than just his medical license.

_God help me._

* * *

Jim Kirk stared at the results of the blood test blankly.

He felt like the numbers, the data, should mean something, _anything_, to him.

Everything felt like a dream though, and in his mind, all he could see were floating clouds.

The past was almost as much of a blur as the future.

He was told this was because of the energy that it took for his body to adapt to the blood transfusions. Bones would have known it was deeper than that though.

It was the psychological struggle of not knowing what is happening to you, to your friends.

Dr. Dimitriev looked at the captain anxiously.

"As you can likely see your blood levels are showing some interesting qualities. To put it simply, your body is displaying exceptional regenerative properties. Its probably one of the main reasons that you are finding yourself unable to focus... the amount of energy your body is taking to fix itself really is rather incredible."

Jim didn't look away from the chart.

"Yeah... yeah it is."

_Incredibly frustrating._

The doctor started up again.

"One very... interesting and possibly positive effect of this procedure is that your scars actually appear to be disappearing."

Jim's world sort of tilted at a funny angle.

"What? I'm pretty sure thats not possible, you must be mistaken..."

The doctor looked with a disgustingly pleased look at the charts.

"Of course, we are not exactly sure how yet, but it most certainly does seem to be the case."

The captain wanted to say something, anything. What this... doctor... this _fake _was suggesting was that his identity, his life's history, even if it was just a bit, was being destroyed.

Jim stood up in an act of outward defiance.

He felt like an idiot in the hospital issued gown and he was half-tempted to take it off just to _prove _that this idiot was lying.

He checked his arms, searching for the knick on his elbow, the place where his dirt-bike had cut him on his tricep, the massive burn mark on his shoulder, the multitude of scars lining his carefully calloused hands.

Gone.

They were all gone.

It didn't feel like renewal, or repair, or any of that shit.

It felt like he had lost all he learned.

It made him feel like a child.

"Captain, I am going to have to ask you to sit down before you fall down."

Jim Kirk was no longer a child.

"Doctor, do you have any medical reason that you have to keep me here?"

The doctor adopted a fierce look of defiance in his eye.

"Since you demonstrated an ability to stand on your own, eat without assistance, and function at a relatively normal level, your are allowed to be discharged, however I strongly advise that you stay for further observation."

_James Tiberius Kirk is not a lab rat._

"Release me."

The doctor looked hesitantly back at the screens on the wall. He couldn't help but want this patient to stay, if nothing else to learn from him. This procedure was... groundbreaking to say the least. To be the one credited for it would be an incredible boost to his career.

He started filling out forms anyways.

Jim began looking for clothes.

"You do understand that you will need to sign papers before you leave. You will need to return for further evaluations, checkups, etc."

Kirk eyed the guy with what bordered on amusement.

"You want me to stay, because you want to test me."

Dr. Dmitriev began to say something but then thought better of it.

Some people are too clever to lie to.

"Well... Doctor... I am going to take a shower, and then get out of this godforsaken place."

The doctor held out a stack of clothes to the captain.

"Aha! Figured they'd be here. You know, never go without backup."

He looked at the stack of clothes hesitantly before grabbing them.

"Who dropped them off? I assume it wasn't one of the terrible threesome, who were, im assuming so conveniently banned from my room. I do know about the fight you know, i wasn't that out of it. McCoy, Uhura, Spock. Don't think I didn't notice."

The russian glared at the kid.

"How did you... nevermind. It was the kid with the accent. Chekhov was his name. Nice. Looked worried to death though. I would contact him, especially since you aren't allowed to leave the building alone. Standard procedure and all."

Jim just laughed.

_My crew._

"Before I go, I have one more question. I tried moving a while ago, and I felt strong. Like really strong. I was wondering of the blood... gah, this sounds stupid... if you think the blood would have anything to do with that."

The doctor quirked a knowing eyebrow.

"We considered that possibility. However, as our tests have shown, that outcome is bordering on impossible. It was almost certainly a fluke. Your body sending false signals to your brain. To be honest, your pain receptors might not have been totally up-to-date, so to say, at the time. No worries, you're not going to become a superhuman on our watch."

Jim smiled a customary smirk, pretending like his answer wasn't really that important.

In reality, the relief the answer gave him was better than any high he had ever experienced.

* * *

The shower had felt like heaven.

No matter how much air conditioning and filters had improved over the years, hospital air still felt like hospital air.

_State of the Art my ass. You know you're sick of the hospital when even the little tiny hole in the wall of a bathroom feels like luxury._

Now that he was out of the shower, he was feeling particularly less confident.

For one, the close the kid, bless his heart, had brought him were far too big.

When you're in a coma, you lose muscle mass.

There is nothing they can do about it, it just is.

It was as obnoxious as can be all the same.

Just like his scars, he had _worked _for those muscles.

_Gone._

_Gone._

_Gone._

The gold of his command uniform made his skin seem unnaturally pale from weeks spent indoors.

To make matters worse, his hair was longer than he would have liked and distinctly disorderly.

He looked like a stoner, and if there was one thing he had never been, it was a stoner.

_Why on earth did I ever give myself sideburns.. this looks freaking awful._

Then there was the problem of communication.

His PADD had been conveniently lost, and even if he had had it, it wasn't like he had Chekov's com number stored.

Being alone feels like power until you need help, therefore the lack of phone numbers. It was a pride problem.

He was willing to acknowledge that.

Jim grabbed the socks from the stack and pulled out a slip of paper secured in them.

On it was Chekov's phone number.

_Obviously someone's thinking ahead here._

As he stood up to find a phone, a wave of dizziness swept over him, blurring the whites of the small bathroom.

_Goddamn this blood. _

He regained his composure to turn the doorknob and leave hospital.

A nurse had replaced the doctor.

"Clear to go?"

She looked at him in awe stuttered out an awkward confirmation.

Jim was going to have to get used to that sort of reaction.

_I am a two-time hero now after all. _

_Not to mention hard to kill._

Kirk left the room and walked down the long corridors of the hospital. Out of the windows he could just see the edges of the damage the crash had caused. The damage he had been trying his hardest to avoid thinking about.

_No matter how many you save, it's always your failures that hurt the most._

At the front desk he signed the papers and attempted to make it look like the short trip to the entrance hadn't been completely exhausting.

He must have looked tired though, because when he asked to make a call, they didn't even ask him standard security questions about his intent and purpose.

Thankfully the Russian picked up.

_I got your number... Yeah, i'm out... Need a ride... _

He felt like a pre-teen waiting for his parents to come.

_What has my life boiled down to._

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews and recommendations keep the words flowing and the thoughts brewing. Just remember that.


	15. AN

**A/N: **First off, I really have to apologize hardcore. I got incredibly busy with mission trips and a million miles of running and mountain biking and being a fan of other peoples stuff that I literally forgot about this. Thank you so much for continuing to review and be wonderful despite this. Now I have to apologize more, because I have hit a roadblock. Like usual, I dug myself an obnoxiously large hole by creating a plot that I actually don't know how to fill. I know what i'm doing with Khan, I need him to show up in the trial, so that's not even my problem. My problem is that I have absolutely no clue how to attack writing a court case. I've thought about it and tried it and I actually have no clue how to proceed with this.

Should I literally write a court case out? If so, how? Anybody know anything about this sort of thing? Should i just do like symbolic psycho-babble like usual or actually write everything out? Is this trial just about McCoy's medical license or has it become something greater? Should this trial be about General Marcus too? How can I include Kirk into this trial to battle the Marcus point? Is law in the star trek universe the same as now? What is law? (Jk) No actually though... I have no clue how to do this.

I'm an idiot.

So therefore, this update is going to be just a bit longer... and hopefully sooner rather than later.

So sorry!

Also, I am going to update my other story tonight for anybody who is paying attention to that... Wrong fandom, but I need to write it.


	16. Passengers on a Dangerous Road

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so, so much for your wonderful input, I cannot thank you enough. I really can't.

After a long delay, I think I've finally re-established a firm grasp on this story and am going to follow through with it full speed.

Don't hesitate to comment if something is glaringly wrong, criticism is a powerful thing.

Enjoy :)

* * *

Jim stared at the skyline of San Francisco through the smudged glass of Chekhov's car. To the left of him he could just see the fringes of the damage done to the city.

He fought the urge to scream at Chekov to push the gas, to run away from the disaster that he had caused.

He didn't though.

Jim took a deep breath and tried to be the person he never could be. A passenger in the crazy roller coaster of his life.

He didn't even ask any questions. He just let the kid drive.

It was an awkward silence and most questions were directed by Chekov on inconsequential things like the air conditioning and the lack of sunny days lately.

God bless the weather, the greatest conversation saver of all.

Chekov took a turn too tight and Jim could feel his head spin at an action that normally wouldn't cause him to blink.

Before the Starfleet business he had _raced_ cars goddammit. It was hard to believe that such small things bothered him so much.

The Russian seemed to sense his discomfort and took the oncoming silence as a gateway for more serious conversation.

The radio was turned down to an incomprehensible level and words came out of the driver's mouth that he had been holding back for a long time.

"Keptin... thank you. Without you... We wouldn't be here today. Any of us."

Kirk took a deep breath and closed his eyes as his reply rushed forward.

"Thanks."

Silence.

The captain smiled just a bit in Chekov's direction.

"Thank's for getting me out of that hell-hole by the way, i don't know if it was supposed to be an isolation room or whatever, but it was freaky."

He could see the Russian laugh lightly at the joke, but they both knew how serious his words were. It was not a hospital visit that could be brushed away like a fly.

They turned into a block of the city that was commonly frequented by Starfleet officials and seasoned graduates. It was a nice part of town, but certainly affordable on a Starfleet paycheck.

Chekov's apartment complex didn't stand out for its newly remodeled lobby or perfectly situated windows however.

What characterized it was the mob of reporters and paparazzi crowding the front door of the Russian's apartment complex.

Both men dropped their jaws.

"Oh shit."

Chekov slammed the brakes and pulled a U-turn unlike anything meant for residential areas.

A throng of reporters turned their way and Chekov belatedly suggested they go to Spock's complex.

Kirk agreed.

As Chekov once again transformed his driving into something more suitable for the city, Jim turned to him with a mixture of panic and anger.

"How did they know?"

The anger wasn't directed at the ensign, but rather at answers he couldn't provide.

"Keptin, I don't know."

He shook his hands, letting go of the steering wheel for a minute.

"I imagine it was probably somebody at the lobby in charge of the release..."

Kirk ran his shaky hands through his too long hair in frustration.

"Ok, ok, its fine. We've just got to get this under control."

He paused.

"Is Spock there?"

Chekov thought he could trace something in his words... anxiety maybe, hope, even fear.

"No... I would think he is at the trial..."

His eyes widened as he realized what he had just let loose.

Kirk whipped around look, searching the younger man's face for truth.

"What trial?!"

Chekov slammed on his brakes just in time to miss the rear end of the city bus in front of them.

"Sir... I ought you would have known. McCoy is on trial, they are giving him another chance... the prior decision to cancel his medical license was apparently not properly authorized. If the tests that they performed on you turn out successful, there is a very high chance that his work with you will prove to be a scientific breakthrough that was necessary given the circumstances... Of course it is all speculation right now..."

Kirk released a breath he had been holding.

"I need to be there."

The Russian pulled into a parking space close to where Spock was staying and the two of them walked hurriedly toward the Vulcan's door.

As he fumbled with his key's, Chekov let loose a string of words in Russian that sounded distinctly unfriendly.

"I forgot the key."

Jim leaned against the brick of the building heavily.

"Good thing I can pick a lock."

"Sir, why..."

Kirk pushed the kid lightly out of the way and told him to never ever call him sir again.

"Just because I was a captain, doesn't mean I haven't had a life of crime behind me."

Both chuckled nervously, hoping that the Vulcan wasn't paranoid enough to have set up a security system this soon.

Chekov turned to Kirk with intense blue eyes.

"You're still Captain."

Kirk met his gaze.

"Wrong. I was Captain. Now it's all up in the air."

He sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"All I'm saying is selling the farmhouse wasn't exactly my brightest idea... That life might be a lot closer than I could have ever imagined."

They finished their small act of vandalism in a silence filled with words unsaid.

* * *

The trial was well, trying, and Nyota and never felt more uncomfortable in a room full of superiors.

Unlike a civilian court-case, McCoy was being tried under a group of ten Starfleet Officials as protocol demanded.

The panel ranged from Captains to Engineers, people she knew from various lectures and meetings.  
However, there were a few too many missing faces for her comfort, namely that of Captain Pike.

His death had been a hard blow for Starfleet.

For an hour she had been watching these men pull up diagrams and results and listened to McCoy and another doctor- Russian-that she was unfamiliar with, give descriptions of the procedure and its side-effects.

Other questions surrounded the incident in the hospital room that had resulted in Dr. McCoy's immediate suspension.

These questions skirted around the main question of the trial- was Leonard McCoy justified in undermining Starfleet Protocol by reviving Captain Kirk without permission.

Nyota understood that the weight of this question was greater than anything they could yet understand.

It wasn't just a question surrounding the ideas of authority and science, it was a question of morality.

If it was okay to revive a dying captain, could the same procedure be performed on a child dying of cancer? On a soldier dying on the battlefield?

It would create an economic conundrum of course. If the serum went private, there was no question that enormous sums of money would be involved in its sale.

Seventy-two.

There was seventy-two bodies containing this near magical serum and it would be enough blood save thousands.

Of course, even if this blood was used up, there was no question that the science existed to recreate the serum and create a new breed of superhumans.

Even if the seventy-two were destroyed, there was still the possibility that the serum could be derived from Jim himself, or worse, taken by force from the minds of those who had used it first.

This scientific breakthrough was potentially the most dangerous piece of weaponry ever to be created, and until the bodies were destroyed and Khan completely destroyed, the questions relating to the serum still remained.

This sort of technology would undoubtedly start power wars, and put a permanent question mark in place of death.

Were the lives saved worth the potentially disastrous consequences that it could bring?

Suddenly the gray walls in front of her blurred with the realization that she knew exactly what Khan's goal was.

Khan wanted to prevent the world from destroying themselves with this serum.

He wanted to make sure that the 72 would not suffer the harsh world of immortality and scientific experimentation.

He wanted to make sure that history wouldn't repeat itself, and that humans would remain human.

Khan wanted to make sure that no human would ever be made into what he had been.

_A weapon._

_A slave to immortality._

_Any day now._

_Any day until he reveals himself to this court._

_Any day until he reveals his intentions._

_Any day until the world realizes that our only option is to comply with him, because in the end, he is right. This is beyond science. We are playing with myth and dreams now. The world isn't ready for that._

_Not now, not ever._

All she could do was sit back and hope that the ten men would see what she saw, that their moral compass would be stronger than their greed and curiosity.

This trial was no longer about the fate of Leonard McCoy.

It was about something much greater than anyone could have ever anticipated.

* * *

Khan looked out over the city he had destroyed with a sense of despair that could only be understood by someone who had watched the world burn before their eyes.

In his eyes, the world had failed.

He had wanted a world free from characteristics that were weak.

Characteristics that would cause the world to self destruct in a blur of chaos.

_They fight among themselves, have no respect for authority, seek peace in all the wrong places._

In his eyes, the only way to achieve peace was through uniformity, strength, and respect of power.

This world had none of that.

This world was not ready for the curse of immortality.

For them, this curse would only bring war over money and power.

For his people, the serum would mean years upon years of experimentation and abuse that could only be created in a laboratory.

Although his words could not be used to ensure this resolution, Khan understood the power of manipulation clearly.

Through men like Anderson, men who were living in fear after being under the influence of Marcus, he would be able to convince the panel to terminate the seventy-two once and for all.

Only after this would he allow himself to fall through the doors of death.

For now though he would wait among the wreckage he had created.

Wait for the world to resolve the disaster they had created three-hundred years ago.

* * *

**A/N: **Hopefully this chapter made ya'll think... i know my brain was scavenging for answers


	17. Final Destinations

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all my loyal reviewers!

This chapter's a bit short so I will update soon.

I just didn't want to try to cram a bunch of other plots into this part. There is enough drama as is hopefully. Enjoy :)

* * *

Chekov watched Jim worriedly from the corner of his eye. He just didn't look orientated at all. From the way he was acting, the furniture may as well have been made out of burning hot coals, because he wouldn't touch anything.

He was treating Spocks apartment like a shrine to some pagan god.

It bordered on fear.

"Are you going to shower?"

The question was filled with trepidation. It seemed wrong to interrupt the Captain.

It was like disrupting prayer.

"Nah, not right now."

The man's hands were shaking like a leaf.

"I'll... I'll be back."

Jim slammed the door and walked onto the small balcony of Spock's apartment.

_Thank God. No... none of his stuff._

After a while, while on the roof, he was able to push his thoughts away from... all of that.

The memories, the emotions, were so overwhelming in there that panic had filled him with unbridled force. Even now, his body sunk down the rail as his mind took over function.

_Spock's hand meets his on the glass._

_Death slowly creeps into his mind._

_Vision blurs._

_He doesn't want to die._

_Spock cries._

_He... fuck._

_Everything goes black._

"I can't REMEMBER anything, ANYTHING after that!"

He screams out the words with a voice consumed with disappointment.

Chekov opens the glass door slowly.

"Captain?"

Jim looks at him, tears streaming down his face.

_Control, get control, get control._

It doesn't come. Years of brick walls created to guard emotion can do nothing against thoughts you never could have prepared for.

"... What.. I don't, I don't understand, why I cannot remember, for the... God. What happened. When I died, I mean. Oh, man, I sound like an idiot, why... Was it Heaven, was it hell, was it black. I mean I really died.. right? I mean, maybe it wasn't I dunno... what if he didn't, what if... where are they."

Jim could hear Chekov speaking to him in the distance, but his thoughts were like white noise blocking out everything around.

The Russian touched his shoulder and his senses started to clear up.

"You need to calm down."

Jim meet Chekov's eyes with his own blurry gaze.

"I don't... this is important.. this is... what matters, right now."

Chekov's worry was plain on his face.

"I think you need to give yourself time. You can't solve all the mysteries of life and death in twenty-four hours."

Jim slipped away from Chekov's hand, leaning against the railing, making the drop from the balcony look so much deeper than space ever had.

"I failed though. Shouldn't I have been able to figure out what happens, when you die I mean. I died. The answer sheet was literally handed to me, and I still, still don't know. I cannot confirm if I saw anything or not. Part of me thinks that there was nothing. That it was just empty. But then, I think i can remember lights... distant lights."

He let out a long breath.

"Maybe my memory didn't even exist then though. Maybe its just all been wiped away like some massive joke the God's are playing on me... secretive bastards."

The kid laughed shakily. Even he looked panicked.

"I've never really thought about the world that way. Not before now anyway. My family was pretty practical, typical Russian really."

"Neither did i. Not until he died anyway."

A spark of understanding flickered in Chekov's mind.

"This goes back to Captain Pike, doesn't it."

Jim stood up suddenly and his vision swam.

"I'm going to go shower."

The Russian followed him.

"I'm sorry! Captain, I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry."

Jim didn't so much as look back.

"It's fine.. not your fault. Your good."

Chekov secretly hoped he left the door unlocked, just in case he passed out or did something really, really stupid. In that state of mind anything is possible.

* * *

_12 Hours Earlier_

"The _criminal._"

He spits out the word like a curse as he breaks the long strings of computer code that lock the high security chamber that is his temporary home.

The code had been hard to hack due to extreme changes in technology over the last 300 years, but the science was close enough.

The chamber, he refused to call it storage, was almost unbearably cold, even with his remarkable constitution.

It was meant to hold bodies.

Morgue's were never meant to be warm places.

They weren't fit for the living.

Yet, somehow, it felt like home.

As he paced through the dark hallway, Khan contemplated this.

The way things had become.

The fact that the only place left for his people was a morgue.

At first, when he had woken up, he had thought that he wanted nothing more than to resurrect his people, to allow them to take over.

He had nearly succeeded too.

The Vulcan had been so unexpected however.

For a race without emotion, the alien certainly held in more anger than he had ever witnessed.

That emotion had burned as bright as magnesium and it was _fascinating_ to watch.

More surprising, even than the Vulcan, had been The Captain.

His fury and desire for revenge rivaled even that of his own.

In the end, it was that burning desire that had led to his demise.

Khan almost felt guilt for that act.

Killing the elder Captain had not been his intention.

Nearly starting a war had not been his intention.

Destroying a city had not been his intention.

Khan was not used to failure at the level.

In his age, the time he was created for, he had not made mistakes.

He had been given an objective and would be given permission to use whatever means necessary to achieve this goal.

However, immortality had stripped him of this sense of direction.

Without time, or a final destination, life has no meaning.

It was a consuming thought.

It was the reason that he now knew with a certainty that he had not felt since he had been awakened that he and his people no longer belonged here.

The world was not created for their sort of ideals.

Therefore they had to be destroyed by the people who had woken them in the first place.

It was the only option.

Tears fell all the same.

* * *

**A/N: **More coming the next day or two! Keep an eye out :)


	18. Surprise Encounters

**A/N: **I am SO sorry about the wait for this chapter, i was feeling particularly uninspired and distracted this week :(

I am SO grateful for all the people who reviewed and favorited after the last chapter, it means a lot and I promise to reply to all new review this week! Gracias to all of you!

Now i am not fond of this chapter, at all, but I guess i'll see what ya'll think?

Enjoy :)

* * *

They were all living on caffeine at the moment, so it was only fitting that they gathered their thoughts at a coffee shop.

The group had left the courthouse seconds after the first day of trial had finished, thankfully in time to avoid the press. After all, the increasing unease of the public was sculpting the trial into a sort of historical landmark.

It was amazing really, how before this, the crew had been so blind to sheer significance of the trial.

Until this point, command crew had been so wrapped up in fear for their own futures that it seemed like everything else was hidden behind a great wall.

Sure, they had expected extensive coverage, but not this.

The speculation was incredible.

Over message boards, news stations, and dinner tables across the world, people were discussing, worrying, panicking, over the implications of the trial and what it meant for the nation as a whole. Scientists were just on the brink of cracking the realities of the serum that had woken, and never, never in McCoy's wildest imagination did he dream that something that he did would be written about in medical journals for years to come.

As he sipped on his drink, the doctor was brought back his days at the academy, reading huge textbooks filled with case studies. It was beyond incredible to think that someday, fresh-faced students would be looking up his name in the index. Someday they would be studying his work.

He could only hope that in retrospect, he could shed the texts in a positive light.

Right now however, sifting through right and wrong seemed a monumental task.

* * *

A poorly dressed man approached their table with an expression of anger on his face.

Instinctively, Spock placed a hand on Nyota's thigh.

He could feel her tense, indicating that the touch was unwelcome.

The Vulcan could read this by the twitch of her quadricep and the subtle movement of her kneecap.

Spock's hand returned to his side in reaction to emotions he characterized as rejection and perhaps even embarrassment.

_What a strange language. Emotion._

Approximately two seconds later, the man began to speak words of anger, words that overwhelmed the Vulcan's understanding of the human condition.

This sort of raw emotion was somewhat foreign to him.

As of yet, his interactions with humans had been limited to a very select few.

Trained officers, obedient soldiers.

People with understanding of concepts such as respect and rationality.

Civilians were a much more wild breed of people, many displaying the same seemingly unorthodox manners of Captain Kirk.

However, the Captain it seemed contained a quality which most humans choose not to develop.

Intelligence.

* * *

Nyota took in the appearance of the man at their table.

His words were coated with the smell of cigarette smoke and a harsh coat of vulgarity. Everything about him said that he wasn't from this district. He worked in the factories on the edge of town. It was obvious by the oil stains, by the light jacket, by the look of exhaustion on his face.

"You bastards... ya took everything, everything from me! My home, my family, my job! You mother-fucking bastards deserve to die in prison I tell you, how dare you, how dare..."

In that moment, Spock stood up with incredible speed to confront him.

"Don't you dare.. get your hands off me you Vulcan scum!"

Spock's fingers wrapped around the man's shoulder. It would have been so easy for him to knock the worker unconscious.

"Silence. You know nothing of which you speak."

The vulcan's glare was enough to leave her a quivering mess.

In those moments, it was so very clear to her that Spock was far from human.

The man whimpered and Spock loosened his grip.

She glanced at McCoy.

The doctor eyes were wide and glazed over. He looked both exhausted and alarmed.

"Let him go. He's right, let him go."

Nyota looked at the doctor again.

" What! You can't... you don't really believe that."  
McCoy sent her a silencing look.

It was not a topic up for discussion at the moment.

Spock spoke something low and harsh into the man's ear then let go of him entirely.

Even after this though, the man didn't back off entirely.

His words were shaky and mumbled, but the message rang true.

"Don't... just don't let the... the bodies stay... he... he wouldn't like it."

Before they could ask any questions the man ran off.

Nyota couldn't help but wonder what role Khan had had to play in all of this.

* * *

For McCoy, the short walk from the cafe to the bus stop was torturous. He could feel Nyota's eyes burning questions into his mind.

The sooner he was alone the better.

_It really is impossible to give answers you don't have._

They loaded the bus to make their way back to their respective homes, in hope of some sort of peace before the insanity of the next day.

_Just another day for disaster._

Nyota and Spock sat together leaving McCoy to sit next to a stranger.

A stranger that might recognize his face.

A stranger who might hate him just as much as the next guy.

To his relief, the man didn't even look his way.

Not when Nyota was throwing questions at him.

Not when he accidentally brushed the strangers coat with a wide, angry hand gesture.

_"McCoy, this is ridiculous. You are not a criminal, you were only following what was right. Your a good man."_

_He cried out in disgust._

_"How can you say that were not to blame when there is no one else to blame. Somebody needs to own up, and it might as well be me."_

_He raised his hands as if to indicate innocence and hit the person next to him. _

_McCoy apologized._

_The man said nothing._

In retrospect, the strangers silence seemed like a terrifying sign indeed.

Especially when the doctor found a nameless note filled with stream-of-conscious thoughts on the trial in his coat pocket.

By the time he summoned the courage to open the message, it was nearly night.

After finishing it, he knew that morning couldn't come soon enough.

Dangerous questions never had been a catalyst for sleep.

* * *

Chekov could hear muttering from the other side of the door.

_Ahhh... shoot._

He braced himself for the inevitable. It was pretty obvious that he had broke into the house.

_They didn't exactly give me a key._

Lock-picking was an art he had learned early on in Russia.

His father had been involved in some less than savory operations, and the knowledge had been passed down with pride.

Right now though, he felt shame for betraying his superior.

The kid could only hope that Spock would see it the same way he did.

_Just helping a_ friend.

Said friend was sleeping restlessly on the couch, right in the living room, right in plain sight of the oncoming disaster.

Obviously this plan wasn't thought through.

He had only just managed to calm the captain down enough to get him to sleep a bit, and Spock's presence was probably enough to trigger a panic attack.

_Oh for Christ's sake, lets just get this over with._

Chekov made the very bold move of opening the door before the two had a chance to greet the intruders themselves.

The Russian was met by a very startled Uhura and Spock's iron fist.

In hindsight, moving his face towards the source of danger hadn't been the wisest choice.

* * *

_Shit._

Jim flew out of bed and awkwardly stumbled for the nearest piece of furniture at the sound of Uhura's scream.

He watched as Spock raised his arm with a look of surprise in his eyes.

The Captain tried to move toward Spock to stop his fist from reaching Chekov, but his body refused to work.

_Nothing new here._

He could almost, _almost_, deal with seeing Spock.

Jim really would have been able to handle him had Chekov not been knocked out.

However, as it stood, eye contact was more than he could possibly stand.

In his eyes, Jim saw his death replaying again, and again, and _again_.

_A hand reaches up to meet his,_

_A single tear falls._

_Everything goes dark._

_Where..._

_"Captain. Jim, come on, wake up."_

The voice came closer and he began to identify the speaker as Uhura.

_"Oh for heaven's sake, you are such a jerk."_

Light started to enter his vision and he realized he was on something soft, probably the couch.

Uhura's eyes were the first thing he saw, and they smoldered gloriously in the evening light.

"Where... where is Spock?"

Jim hated the way his voice shook when he asked the question.

Nyota looked at him with pity.

_I hate pity, always have._

"He went to bed. Or is trying to anyway... you know how it is."

Jim tried to sit up but was pushed down lightly by Uhura.

He still had questions.

"Ok then, where are Chekov and McCoy?"

She looked away in faint amusement.

"Spock took him back to his apartment. He didn't seem to have a concussion. Plus there wasn't really anywhere for him to sleep here. McCoy... he went back to his apartment... he wanted to sleep I think."

Jim sighed in relief. Having McCoy there would have been overwhelming to say the least.

"Chekov probably deserved it... cheeky little bastard didn't even pause to think before breaking in..."

Nyota snickered.

"Anything to please the Captain."

She turned off the light.

"Now sleep. You'll need it."

* * *

**A/N: **Khan appears to be at work, eh? ... if you guys have any suggestions or comments, do please type away :) planning to update soon!


	19. We Build Then We Break

**Author's Note: **First off, I absolutely HAVE to apologize deeply for the long wait! You guys have been nothing but supportive and I have been nothing but distracted :( I just forgot and then was busy and life moves on...

Btw, I just got a tumblr, which partially explains the delay. Link is on my profile.

Enjoy!

* * *

_A homeless man is given several thousand dollars. It is handed to him by a wealthy man with a breath of compassion for the shivering man on the street._

_He weeps when he is given it, because in his eyes, a few thousand dollars means freedom from the life of which he has been enslaved._

_The man holds the cash close to him and walks slowly back to his corner of the world and falls asleep, dreaming of what he could possibly do with the money._

_Food? Shelter? Luxuries?_

_He has been so long without that he cannot possibly comprehend a life with any of these things, so when he wakes, he consults a friend._

_The friend dreamed along with him, and he too began to crave the luxuries that could be bought with money. He was filled with intense jealousy and one day, drunk, he told a local leader his friend had a large amount of money._

_Money that could fix the lives of so many desperate people on the streets._

_The next day, when the man with the money returned, he was met not by his friend, but by the cold metal of a gun. They demanded that the money be split evenly among the people._

_The man wished to consent because he felt pity for the others, and dreamed that one day, the people he knew would beat their demons and start their lives anew._

_However, the people who held him at point did not share these same dreams. They were dangerous men. Drug Lords and Drunkards._

Where is the money.

_They spoke these words quietly because the gun screamed louder than vocal chords._

Where is the money.

_The man sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders._

_Unless he handed it over, he would be killed._

_If he handed over the money however, he would only be fueling the fire of the evil that had put him in this place._

_Those men did not need the money._

Where is the money.

_This time the words were a shout, and the gun clicked into gear._

_He listened._

_He pulled out the money._

_He shredded it to pieces._

_It was better to die and destroy the evil than live and let it grow._

_He died with these thoughts._

_He died happily, with the knowledge that a miraculous thing is only good when it is used for good._

* * *

Leonard read the words on the letter, even as the words were blurred by his shaking hands.

He felt so lost, so drunk on the events of the last few days.

What he had just read… that parable, had been in his pocket.

_How the hell did that note get there?_

It was the stranger on the train.

It had to have been.

It wasn't like he had been lingering around random strangers, which would have explained a lot. He had found stranger things after a long night at the bar.

It wasn't sent by anyone he knew; too abstract for Spock, too bizarre for Uhura.

_Why? Who sent this to me?_

He would have rather been reading a textbook.

Studying for finals.

Taking placement tests.

Anything other than thinking about this.

It was a message meant for him, that much was clear.

Then Leonard remembered the man in the cafe.

_"Just don't let the bodies stay, he wouldn't like it."_

Who was he?

Not Khan.

For one thing, the bastard was dead, frozen. Official reports said so.

Official reports never lie… except, who are we kidding, when they make people look bad.

Even if he was alive, it was very clear that Khan would want nothing more than to save his crew.

_Unless… unless he thinks death is salvation. Finality does have a nice ring to it._

McCoy pulled out his communicator and entered in Uhura's name.

I know this sounds paranoid… but I don't think he's dead.

No, i'm not on hallucinogens. -McCoy

He flopped down heavily on the sofa and waited for her reply.

_Now she's gonna think i'm batshit crazy._

The comm vibrated from beneath him and he hastily opened the message.

If by "him", you mean Khan, yeah, I agree.

The doctor let out a shaky breath.

_She's paranoid too._

He slipped me a note. It's a parable of sorts, and its hellishly creepy.

He didn't have to wait long for the reply.

Wait, what? Are you sure it was him?

McCoy thought about his answer and realized that there was no way he would be able to drain all of his suspicions over the last few days into the meager contents of a text.

I'll explain. I'm coming over.

He gathered his keys in a hurry, leaving his security system unarmed.

It wasn't until after he had rolled out of the parking garage that Nyota's text went through.

* * *

The automated beep of the doorbell caused Nyota to smear her eyeliner.

It had startled her because Spock had changed the noise from the classic 'ring' (apparently it was from an "expired-era", therefore unnecessarily nostalgic), and also because there was nobody at her door that she could possibly want to see at the moment.

_Please not McCoy. Not while Jim's here._

She quickly wiped the carefully applied liner off both eyes. Nyota was meticulous and liquid liner didn't leave room for error.

_Hopefully it's not the press. I'm hardly up to standard._

She threw on a gray athletic top and unlocked the bathroom door.

Spock and Jim were both sitting in the living room.

Well, sitting might have been a bit of a vague statement.

They were like statues.

Unmoving, unblinking, and trying their hardest to avoid eye-contact while still pretending that they didn't find the situation awkward.

She walked around the two, receiving only a passing glance from Spock.

"Do either of you two want anything to eat?"

Jim jumped in the air like he had been attacked at the sound of her voice but didn't respond. Spock reacted equally.

"Nevermind, someone's at the door. I'll get it"

She opened the door and was greeted with McCoy's face.

_Great. Somebody didn't check their texts._

Nyota stepped outside and shut the door, forcing McCoy to move to the lower step.

"You didn't check your texts. You didn't even make sure you could actually come over."

McCoy had the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"Look, you know we need to talk about this. I just figured that you wouldn't care if we did it now."

Nyota just rolled her eyes.

"No, you needed to talk about this right now. I needed to get ready for the trial, and no, you are not talking to me while i'm in the bathroom."

She ran a hand through her unkempt hair.

"Also, Jim's here."

McCoy's eyes shot open.

"What? Incompetent bastards, why the hell did they release him that early? They can not possibly have been finished testing him. I bet they didn't even get a psych eval. I am going to kill that Russian when this is all over."

"Well, he's here now, there's nothing you can do."

Leonard's scowl deepened like he had sucked on a particularly sour lemon.

"Damn right there's not. They should have…."

He was interrupted by the linguist grabbing him by the front of his uniform.

"Woman, what are you…."

She didn't need makeup to make an intimidating figure. McCoy shut up.

"We need to talk about this situation, come to an agreement. We are a team Leonard. We were a team. We need to prove that these men that we can hold it together, and that our opinion means anything. What we did was heroic. What you did was heroic, but if the reports are read with tinted glass, with any sort of prejudice, we will lose this case. We have to pick a side. We have to know what we want out of this case if we are going to make any sort of an impact at all."

Leonard softened his gaze.

"I know. I know. Is Khan alive?"

Nyota sat down on one of the steps.

"We have to keep it down, I don't want Spock of Jim to find out. It would… put them off to say the least. I think he's alive. Maybe I just haven't gotten enough sleep, but I could have sworn when I was running that I saw him. It was his eyes. I know that. I would recognize him anywhere now."

"Nightmares?"

"... Yes. Then there was the cafe, with the man. He must have been one of his men. I mean it has been a few days, he could have built a network of supporters. Threatened a few men. Then your note. Can I see it?"

McCoy held out the paper and watched as she read the message.

"I agree with him. Whether he's Khan or not. Do you think he could have made his way into hotel rooms? Homes? Its possible were not the only ones that he's… inspiring like this."

The doctor quirked a practiced eyebrow.

"I think that super-human has the power to do whatever the hell he wants. I think he messed up though, and he knows it. I think he's trying to fix it. Waking up after 300 years must have been quite the shock. He might not have been thinking all that rationally."

She placed her hands on his.

"Revenge is mans first weapon and usually his first mistake. I can hardly blame him."

"Well I wouldn't go that far. He did send everything downstream. In a raging flood."

Just then Spock opened the door with a look of surprise on his face.

"Doctor, I did not realize you would be visiting."

McCoy slapped his shoulder hard.

It was one of those gestures a Vulcan did not have the ability to appreciate.

"Well, you can't get rid of me that easily. Let's do this."

* * *

Khan picked the lock of the doctor's apartment with a practiced ease.

To his surprise, there hadn't even been a security system enabled.

_He must have been in a hurry._

As he stepped through the threshold of the door, the more human part of him, the more wild side of his personality, could not help but feel a tremor of unease at the thought of what he had done, what he was about to do.

**Eliminate: To put a permanent end to.**

The doctor was the last of the the key pieces in this dangerous game he was playing.

Placing the note in his pocket and creating the confrontation in the cafe had surely served some purpose, however, he needed to be sure.

Needed to be sure that this would end, that no one could use the miracle without care, to meet a selfish end.

His _people_ deserved more than that.

Speaking with the man who had unlocked the cure was the easiest way to ensure that his people were done justice.

Khan raised a hand to his forehead and noted hazily that it was shaking.

It had been days since he had woken from the slumber, and he had yet to consume any sort of nourishment.

He chuckled darkly and dreamed of dying then and there.

It wasn't his time though.

_Soon._

In the meantime, he would make full use of the accommodations he had so boldly arranged.

'John Harrison' was a military man. It was only logical that he did with what was provided after all.

He could only pray that the doctor would wait to return to his home till after he showered.

* * *

**A/N: **What did you guys think? Drop me a review, and i will make sure the next chapter comes by Friday :)


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **

First off I have to apologize because I haven't updated in over two months... which is quite frankly awful. I'm really sorry to all my readers, my life has just been insane. Wild amounts of homework, cross country captaining, marching band, running varsity, musicals, family stuff, drama, boys... i literally have had no time to update. That and writing just hasn't been coming to me lately...

Good news! This will be updated really soon. If its not updated this week, it will be within the next two weeks, depending on whether or not I make it to state... i don't have to sleep if i don't have to run.

As soon as this starts again updates will be at least every week, if not more! (with even longer chapters)

If readers are following any of my other two start-up stories, those should be started again right after too-soon.

Again, i'm so sorry to all of my readers :(

Thanks for your loyalty!


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